2 comments/ 4598 views/ 0 favorites Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 01 By: WittePiet Chapter One Life without Luke The most wonderful day of my life occurred in August of my second year at Buckingham College, in the University of Camford. It was the day that my boyfriend Luke agreed to become my life partner. I had fallen in love with him the minute I first met him almost two years before, when we were freshmen sharing a room in college. He had beautiful long dark wavy hair and a brown Mediterranean skin. He was about 70 kilos, tall and thin, but wiry rather than skinny, muscular but slender, with sparse body hair and an excitingly big male organ. He was very chatty, open and friendly, and in the first few weeks of term made me feel less strange and alienated in the university city far from my home in the north of England. I felt enormously attracted to him, and the merest sight of him filled me with desire. Perhaps it was fortunate that I met him before I knew his name, or I might have been put off by his double-barrelled surname Singleton-Scarborough. Only much later did I discover that his name was that of his two adoptive fathers, who had brought him up from babyhood. He knew the identity of his mother, but had never met her. She was the sister of one of his cofathers. In the next six months, we became close friends, but both of us disguised our sexual attraction for each other out of fear that we would spoil our close relationship. We only recognized our love for one another after I had rescued Luke from an embarrassing and threatening situation by falsely claiming that he was mine, when we went by mistake into a gay pub and he was propositioned by a gay weirdo. Afterwards I had to tell him that although what I had said was untrue, I did actually want him. He responded by acknowledging that he felt the same way towards me. You may find this hard to believe, but I did not know at the time that the college of which I was a member had a reputation for being gay, or more correctly, gay-friendly. I should have realized it, because I knew that it was Camford's only college that did not admit women! Luke knew of course, which is why he had chosen to go there. My mother died when I was 15 years of age. After her death, my father disintegrated as a person. Already unemployed, he subsisted entirely on benefits and lived with a series of worthless women, none of whom had any time for a teenager in the house. Made so unwelcome, I moved in with my elder sister Liz, who had her own house and her own business. I did all my school homework and ate most of my meals at Liz's house. I had very few friends of my own age, so I spent three years, until I came to Camford, with books, either study books or works of history and literature. When not in Liz's house, I also spent a good deal of time in the house of my chemistry master Mr Silverdale, who gave me an enormous amount of help and encouragement. Not only did he coach me through my GCSE and A-Level exams, but he encouraged me to make an application to the University of Camford. He also encouraged and developed my love of classical music that had begun when my mother sent me to piano lessons, which ceased abruptly on her death. It was thanks to the general reading and my retentive memory that at the age of seventeen and a half I successfully passed the interview for admission to Buckingham College. No-one from my school had ever gone to Camford, so when I got there with good A Levels, just eighteen years old, I was intensely lonely. Even my tutor in my first year did not give me the help and encouragement that he was paid to do. I had spells of feeling suicidal and in the Candlemas term even thought of leaving, although I had nowhere to go to. Luke was the only person who was nice to me, and indeed went out of his way to help me find my feet in college, university and city. He persuaded me to go to the cinema with him to see foreign-language films, and bought exotic beers, which we consumed in our college room. I would have done anything to gain his affection, but dared not tell him so. When we found one another, the world changed for me, and in the course of the following months with Luke's support and encouragement, I began to appreciate the glories, the pleasures and the beauty of the city and its colleges and the sheer enjoyableness of academic life. I also (to be honest) also took enormous delight in my boy's beautiful body! I had always been good at chemistry, my chosen field of study, so I had no academic problems, and thanks to the joy that Luke brought to my life, and in spite of poor college tuition, I did so well in my first-year exams that I got a scholarship. It gave me particular pleasure that he too got a scholarship and we continued to share a room in our second year. But my greatest pleasure was when Luke said to me, "It's a pity there are no scholarships for brilliance in fucking. If there were, you would easily win one!" After a particularly disagreeable episode during my first Easter vacation involving the bitch with whom my father was living, I had left home for good, Luke's parents offered me a home. They were two very distinguished middle-aged gay men. They lived at Rockwell's Barn, a country house near Ixton, but also had a flat in Fountain Street, Camford. Luke and I were (and are) blissfully happy together, but I was unable to contemplate us getting engaged, as he had pots of money because his parents were wealthy, and I had nothing to offer Luke, except myself. Things changed however, when at Easter in my second year I met one of Luke's grandmothers for the first time, and out of the blue she offered the two of us €75,000 each! So only a few months after this, as we were lying together under an overhanging rock on a Welsh hillside after our first ever open-air sex, I asked him to become my partner for life, and he accepted without hesitation. Luke is a devout Anglican, and his sweet disposition and forgiving nature are good advertisements for the Christian faith. After falling in love, he would never get involved in a relationship that was not lifelong. He brought a sense of security to me that I had never felt since my mother's death. We bought each other identical engagement rings ('mangagement rings' as they later became known) as a token that we belonged to each other. By now I had a female friend Margaret, with whom I went to concerts. She was a lesbian, so Luke had no need to be jealous, and he asked her to keep an eye on me, because shortly after our engagement, he left for Italy as part of his degree studies in Modern Languages. I got on well with Luke's parents. One, whom he called Pop, was a tutor to first-year chemistry students in St Boniface's College, the other, whom he called Dad, and who was his biological uncle, was a world-famous tenor, whose voice I had admired since I was a young teenager. Dad, whom I call David, is often away singing in recitals, opera and oratorio in all parts of the world. I am sometimes honoured with the responsibility of playing the piano for him when he rehearses at home. On Luke's encouragement, I discovered that I could sing, and was recruited as a tenor into the college chapel choir, which sorely needed tenor and (male) alto voices. Later my friend Margaret encouraged me to audition for the Camford Bach Choir. Towards the end of that same August, on one of my days off from my vacation work at the Camford Fitness Centre, Dad, who was on one of his short stretches at home, drove with me to Bristol Airport to put Luke on a plane to Bologna-Guglielmo-Marconi Airport. He was going to spend his third academic year as an Erasmus student at the University of Bologna, reputed to be the oldest in Europe (though this is disputed by the University of Salamanca!). Most of his weekends were to be spent with his mother and her family in a small town near Verona. She was Luke's Dad's sister, and had given Luke up at the age of six months to Dad and Pop for adoption. She had later married Massimo Mascagnoli. After his adoption she had no contact with her son until at the age of eighteen, he exercised his right to find her. This had happened the year before, and both I and his English cofathers had already met his mother and her family. I kissed Luke goodbye with regret, but not with a sinking heart. I would be seeing him again in four months time. About a month later, just before the beginning of the Martinmas term, and after I had finished working at the Fitness Centre, Luke's parents suggested to me that I invite Margaret, who had just got back to Camford, to spend a day with us at Rockwell's Barn. Cathy, Luke's sister was just about to leave for Oxbridge, but her preparations were well organized, and her curiosity to meet my lesbian friend was so great that she spent the day with Margaret and me. The two girls got on like a house on fire and in the end, despairing of getting Margaret to myself, I undressed and swam fifty metres in the pool! Eventually I persuaded the two of them to come for a drink at the Jellycotes Arms. So much by way of introduction to this story: except that I have not yet told you my name. It is Thomas Appleton. I had by now left behind the black period that I had gone through between the ages of 15 and 18, and had become a normal man of twenty, different only in that I preferred boys to girls. Luke however left for Italy convinced that I would relapse during his absence into my teenage black slough of despond. One of the reasons for me writing this account is to prove him wrong! I proposed to have a good time while he was away, and in any case I had the major exams of my study period at the end of this third year and was determined to do well in them, as I wanted to do research. Chapter Two Left behind in Camford I had arranged with Luke that we would talk on the phone only once per week. We also thought that although we would not restrict the number of E-mails that we exchanged, we would try to limit them to one per week each. The intention was to use the phone calls for phone sex, rather than for rational conversation, for which we would use E-mail. In Luke's first E-mail, he told us that he had found somewhere to live, a shared apartment with two Italian students. He said that Bologna was a huge and faceless university, with 90,000 students, and few contact hours. He had registered for about six modules in history, literature, politics, regional studies, and music. As he said, all he would get from Bologna was a certificate, and although he would get assessments, they would not count towards his Camford degree. Only the fact that he had studied for an extra year would be taken into account in his Camford assessment, though of course he would be able to use some of the knowledge acquired in Italy in his final year essays and exams. So his studies were much more laid back than in Camford, and the Italian terms were also longer. When term began, Margaret was an enormous help to me, even though out of consideration for Sarah, her girlfriend, we could not go out together more than twice per week, one of which scarcely counted because it was Bach Choir practice evening. It was thanks to her, but also in part to my sister, that I was becoming much more at ease with women than Luke was. Even after Luke had sought out and met his mother Dorothea, he was never much at ease with her socially, as he had had a totally motherless upbringing. I just hoped that a year of seeing his mother most weekends in Italy would make him grow to love her as much as most men, especially gay men, love their mothers. This however did depend to some extent on the attitude of Massimo, Dorothea's husband, who can scarcely have welcomed regular visits from his wife's love-child, if such a kind name can be applied to the offspring of the worthless Italian who had casually fucked her and then abandoned her when she got pregnant. Luke always refers to himself not as a love-child, a term which devalues marriage, but as a bastard. It was doubly difficult for poor Massimo, because he had married Dorothea when she was pregnant with Alessandro, who had also been begotten by Luke's promiscuous father, and brought him up as his own son. As Luke always said, his paternity and upbringing seemed to be as complex as that of Figaro in Mozart's opera! Later Massimo and Dorothea had a daughter called Bianca. Although Luke worried enormously about inheriting his biological father's promiscuity, I knew that his Christian upbringing and well-developed conscience would ensure that he never would behave like his biological father. However, he was attractive to both men and women, whereas I was not, on the whole, attractive to men. Indeed on the rare occasions when I perceived a man appraising me sexually, I got highly embarrassed! We had discussed infidelity at length and eventually adopted the rule that Luke's fathers had had, that single acts of infidelity, if produced by severe temptation, would be ignored provided that they were told to the other partner and not repeated. Who can predict how a lonely man in love can feel and behave when away from his lover? Academically, the content of my third-year studies was different from my second-year work. There was less laboratory work and more lectures. At the end of the year, there would be exams. Students who had elected for a three-year course got a classified degree. Those who opted for four years just got a pass, and the class of degree would be assigned after completion of a laboratory research project in the fourth year. If fourth-year students worked for an additional twenty weeks in the lab during vacations, they could also get an M.Chem. degree. I got into the habit of having coffee in the departmental snack-bar with Margaret several times a week. Students who knew I was gay were baffled by the sight of us drinking coffee together and I got a lot of teasing about bisexuality! I still enjoyed singing, and because I was no longer strapped for cash, I signed on to go on the choir's tour of Austria during the Easter vac. It just fitted in between the end of term and our annual visit to Luke's grandmother in Nice. There would still be time after we got back for a week's exam revision before the Pentecost term. I did take the trouble to consult my tutor Colin Vaughan about the advisability of going on a singing trip so close to my exams, but as he said, ten weeks is plenty of time for an organized student to get ready for exams. I was becoming very fond of Margaret, and even discussed with her how she felt about kissing and holding hands. She said she didn't mind, but not to do it when Sarah her girlfriend was around. The three of us did occasionally go out for a drink or to watch a film or play together. The girls welcomed my company when they were visiting pubs, because my presence warded off unwanted male attention and crude comments about 'a pair of dykes.' They were not into swimming, so I went by myself twice a week to the Fitness Centre. Occasionally at lunchtime Luke's Pop would join me. He asked me to call him Jon, which I then started to do. Chapter Three Exchange of E-mails I In November I got the following E-mail: From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'Darling Tom, A couple of weeks ago I made my first visit to the opera in Bologna. The opera house is called the Teatro Communale. It is a very historic building, dating from the eighteenth century, and Toscanini was conductor there in the nineteen thirties. In spite of his tour last year singing Monteverdi madrigals, Dad has never performed in an Italian opera house, and I reckon that Marcello is now too old to get him a role, so I can never expect to see your idol on the Italian stage. I also go to concerts when I get the chance, and I frequently go to the cinema with one of the boys who share the apartment. However, I had to go to the opera on my own, and that's when I most missed you. The performance I saw was Rossini's 'L'Italiana in Algeri,' which I enjoyed very much, and you would have loved it. In the interval I got talking to a girl who was also on her own, and we arranged to go to the next opera together. She gave me her phone number, so I might even try taking her for a meal if we can get to know one another better! There'll be no shagging though, I promise.' [I doubt whether my darling boy could do it with a woman, he would never get it up. If he's going to fall, it will be to a man.] 'Anyway, next week there is another opera performance, so I rang her and we have arranged to go together. I go to about six lectures a week, which is a trivial load compared with your twelve plus one tutorial. And I get no tutorial classes, and all written work is voluntary! I do have a long reading list though. My Italian is getting steadily better, and as a result of living with two boys, my vocabulary of dirty words is getting to be very extensive! When you get some spare time, your first priority has to be driving lessons, but after that I'm going to make you learn Italian. Then we can come and live in the house at Montecatini-Terme. In my next E-mail, I'll tell you more about the next trip to the opera. I'm desperately looking forward to hearing your voice on Thursday. I love you more than words can express. Your ever-loving boy Luca. XXXXXXX' This was my reply: From t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk to: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.camford.ac.uk 'My darling boy, It's good that you have found someone to go to the opera with. I hope that she turns out to be as sweet as Margaret is. If she hadn't been gay, I think that I could have fallen for her! We hold hands sometimes, and I've even given her a 'family style' kiss, like I give your grandparents. Do the boys that live in your apartment know that you are gay? Are you planning on coming out in Italy? It might be quite different from here. I guess that as you are only going to be there for a matter of months, it might be better to stay in the closet. A guy tried to get off with me at the Fitness Centre today. I tried to discourage him gently. I am going to ask Alex and Steve if they know him; they seem to know half the gays in Camford. I went out drinking with them the other night at the Fitness Centre bar. There was the usual collection of football obsessives there, but the beer was good. Pop was telling me that they are definitely going ahead with extensions to the Centre. There will be an additional squash court, and a second swimming pool to reduce congestion, and a sports hall for five-a-side football etc. They got the land fairly cheaply by buying up an old department store and its warehouse that had gone bust. Pop put half a million towards it of course. He tells me that Cathy is having a wonderful time in Oxbridge. I just hope that she doesn't let herself get into trouble like your mother! I doubt it very much, she's too shrewd for that, and no doubt has condoms in her handbag at all times, even if she never needs them! My wonderful Luke, I miss you more than words can tell. I've even reverted to the teenage habit of wanking off in front of your picture. But it's only another six weeks and we'll be in bed together. I'm ticking off the days on my calendar. Your loving friend and fiancé, Tom.' XXXXXXX From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'Darling Tom, Careful inspection of the opera tickets that I had revealed that they were for Puccini's 'Il Tabarro,' (The Cloak), the first of a series of one-act operas by Puccini called 'Il Trittico' (The Triptych). The other two operas will follow in the next two weeks. After the performance was over, I asked the girl, whose name btw is Leonora, if she had eaten, as it was only about 8-30 pm. She said that she had not, so we went to a restaurant for dinner. I was amazed when she said yes to the invitation, because you know how awkward I am with women. There are lots of cheapo eating places in Bologna, because like Camford, it's full of students, but I decided that we should eat in a more upmarket place. We had an excellent meal, avoiding pasta, because I tend to eat too much of it, and we had a bottle of Piemonte with it. Afterwards I asked whether she needed escorting home, but she said she would be OK as it only 11 pm, so I saw her to her tram. Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 01 We arranged that we would attend both the next two one-acters, and eat afterwards. I want to take her back to the apartment for coffee sometime, because the other lads are always bringing women home, and often at the weekends the girls stay the night. They often comment about my lack of female company, so maybe they will not rumble that I'm gay if I take Leonora back for coffee. I think that I'm going to stay in the closet while in Bologna. If I say that I'm gay, they will wonder why I don't keep bringing boys home! The concept of staying true to a partner is rather alien to the Italian male. I think that I will have to tell Leonora about my sexuality, though, because otherwise she might get the wrong idea. So far she has not taken the initiative in contacting me, which I guess is a good sign. It all depends on what she wants. If all she wants is company at the opera, them no problem, but if she wants a relationship involving sex, then she will be disappointed. I'll keep you in the picture about my strictly asexual operatic developments. I'm slowly beginning to get to know my mother, and loving her more and more. I'm getting very fond of my brother Sandro. I hope that he makes a good career for himself, and I wish that he could spend time with us at Rockwell's Barn. Looking forward to your next randy, prick-raising phone call, I am Your loving boy, Luca.' XXXXXXX From t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk to: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.camford.ac.uk 'Darling Faggot-Boy I have no fear that you will ever shag the sweet Leonora. Do you realize that you have told me nothing about her? Not a word about her looks, her height, fat or skinny, dark or fair, local or from far away from Bologna, brash and noisy or quiet and shy. Clearly women leave you cold! Does she know that you are English? I can't judge how good your Italian pronunciation is, though even I can hear that it's quiet fluent. Is it good enough to fool her? Does she show signs of wanting you? Have you told her yet that you're gay? Can she speak English? How does she dress? At least with your interest in clothes, you must know what she wears and how she looks in it. Moreover, you've never mentioned what the boys in your house are like. Not gay, I suppose, but what do they look like? Do any of them attract you? Are they promiscuous, or do they have regular girlfriends? We're missing you in the choir. There are a couple of other Modern Language students in the choir also away on their year abroad and our number is a bit depleted. By the way, I lashed out in a fit of wild extravagance and bought a BlackBerry, so I will be able to read your E-mails wherever I am within reach of a cellphone network. I'll tell you more about it when we talk on Thursday. The mere thought of your lovely cock makes mine go stiff. I long to have it in my mouth, but it won't be long now! My eternal love and kisses galore, From your beloved fiancé Tom.' XXXXXX From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My dear Tom Well, I went to the opera with Leonora yesterday. It was 'Suor Angelica,' if anything even more depressing in plot and ending than 'Il Tabarro.' It's the only opera I know with a cast entirely of women! However, the singing was very good and we had another excellent meal afterwards. We made no attempt to hold each other's hand during the performance, which left me feeling a bit incomplete. I love the feel of your hand when we are at the cinema or opera. I must answer a few of your questions about Leonora. She has black hair, like me. She is I suppose moderately pretty, though women's looks never excite me in the way that men's looks do. I have no interest in tits or broad female arses, but Leonora is slim, does not have much in the way of tits and does not eat very much. She dresses well, but not very excitingly. In temperament she is not very lively in comparison with say Cathy. She does not speak much English, and we speak Italian all the time. She is a student, and pretty bright, we can discuss the opera at great length. I have now told her that I am gay, and just want to be friends, that there will never be any sex between us, but if she wants to kiss or hold hands, I will be happy to oblige. To my surprise, she seems quite happy with the friendship-without-sex proposal. She has not mentioned any boyfriend, so maybe she is gay or very religious and thinking about entering a convent! I must ask her about her religious views. I certainly want to hold her hand. I will try it when we go to 'Gianni Schicchi' next week. Whatever else Italy may or may not do for me, it has given me the chance to see lots of recent Italian films and lots more opera than I could ever hear in England outside London. I don't think though, however long I stay here that I will develop a taste for Italian beer! Please say something really hot and randy when you ring me on Thursday. I do have a photo of you in my bedroom, but as I want to stay in the closet, the photo is in a drawer beside the bed. My precious lad, I love you Luke.' XXXXXXXX From t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk to: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My sweet and beautiful Luke How was 'Gianni Schicchi'? It's the most well known piece from 'Il Trittico' and it's a comedy, so I guess that you enjoyed it. What about Leonora, how did she find it? Things here are getting an end-of-term feeling about them: Advent concerts, Christmas performances, parties for groups. Colin Vaughan gave one this week to all his pupils. We were allowed to bring a guest, so I took Margaret. Her gf would not permit Margaret to go out with me on an extra occasion, so we didn't go to a concert that week. It raised looks I can tell you when I arrived at Colin's room with a girl. It was a good evening. It was after dinner, so there were just drinks, but plenty of them and we had a very enjoyable evening. There were about a dozen of us, including a couple of Colin's Ph.D. students, but Colin's sitting room is pretty big. Next Friday I have my progress test. I hope all the womanizing I have done this term has not slowed down my academic progress! The chapel choir is also going to have a party on Wednesday next. That, as a men-only affair, will be pretty boozy, I expect. I'm starting to miss you more than ever, but it's only about three weeks now till we can sleep together. I love you, my sweet brown boy, Tom.' XXXXXXX From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My darling stud-boy 'Gianni Schicchi' was a delight, the singing was superb and the humour convincing. Leonora loved it. She let me hold her hand during the performance, so that was an additional pleasure. After Christmas, the Teatro Communale is putting on Mozart's 'Don Giovanni,' and we have bought our tickets already. I took her out to dinner afterwards, and got her to come back to the flat for coffee. When she saw the crucifix on my bedroom wall, she realized that I was a believer, and that allowed me to talk to her on to the topic of religion. She is considering joining a religious order, as I guessed, which is why she welcomed my offer of friendship. No Italian man she has been out with has wanted friendship: some have been looking for a wife, others just wanted cunt. Why she is so keen on opera, I have not yet found out: she won't see much opera in a convent. I plucked up enough courage to say that the picture of religious life in 'Suor Angelica' is rather depressing. She said that convent life is not like that any more, and besides, unlike Angelica, she had no ulterior motive for becoming a nun and she was doing it of her own free will. I hope that she does not tell me that I am a hypocrite for trying to serve Jesus Christ and yet living a (to her) sinful and unnatural life. We have a couple of exams next week, but I am not sure how important they are. In spite of female company and my other family at weekends, I miss you dreadfully. Sex of course is one of the reasons for missing you and your wonderful lovemaking, but except for Massimo and Sandro, most of my male acquaintances are superficial, and I can't have a deep conversation with anyone except Leonora, and a deep conversation in Italian although a bit of a struggle, is getting easier as my limited vocabulary increases. Looking forward to your shaft in my bum, I love you, darling Tom, Your Luca.' XXXXXXXX Chapter Four Phone sex (Samples) [If you are an ex-phone hacker employed by the former 'News of the World' newspaper, you will enjoy this chapter. If you find it full of crude drivel, feel free to skip to Chapter Five.] Phone call 1, Luke to Tom: L: "Hello darling Tom, prize man-fucker of Buckingham College. I wish you were in bed with me right now. My rear end feels so empty. I want your weight on top of me, I want your hot kisses. I want to stroke your hairy nipples and nuzzle your tits. I want to feel your lips on mine, your hands fingering my balls, your sweet sweat dripping on my chest." T: "My lovely skinny boy, I wish I were undressing you right now. I would finger your crotch until I could feel your dick as stiff as a poker, I would unbuckle your belt and unzip your fly and pull out your wonderful big man-stick. I would put it into my mouth and suck and chew it, licking the precome and swallowing it. I would pull off your shoes, socks and jeans and disengage your underpants from your monster cock till I had you naked and in my power!" L: "Tom, push your dick up my hole NOW! Ram me, fuck me, bugger me senseless! Squirt your delicious man-seed into me, mouth or gut, I don't mind which." T: "Lovely Luke, you are so soft and sweet. I want to wrap you in my arms and squeeze you till you melt in your hot lust and then I'll swallow you up, so that you become part of me. We were designed by God each to be part of one another." L: "I love it when you fuck me. You're not just pouring your spunk into me, you are pouring divine love. God gave us this desire to be part of one another to remind us that He wants to become part of us. But that's serious stuff, I'll keep it for when we talk face-to-face." T: "Yes, Let's keep the talk crude and carnal. I often think of you when I'm on the pot having a shit. I wish that you were sitting on my knee as I drop the turds out of my shithole. I would wrap my arms round you, caress your nipples and your belly and finger your tool. You would be my slave. I would hand you the toilet paper and tell you to wipe my shitty hole and to get it clean on pain of a fearful penalty. And if I ever caught you letting yourself be abused by another man, I would spank your bare arse hard! But I'm getting nearer and nearer to coming...yes, the miracle is upon me" [he gasps several times and shoots his load violently]..."Oh Luke, I love you." L: "Lucky boy! Say something crude to get me going. I'm miles away from coming." T: "Remember that you're MINE. If you let anyone else fuck you, or even touch you, I will beat them to pulp and then I will punish you. You will be made to rim me, and at the moment that your face is deep in my crack, I'll let a mighty fart and blow you out! Then I'll take you across my knee and tickle your arse until you go crazy. Then I'll make you bend over the bed and bugger you till you're red-raw!" L: "That's it, stud-boy, I'm gonna come...now!...I've just sprayed my fuck-juice all over my belly. Thank you big boy. Here's a series of BIG kisses: XXXXXXX. Bye bye, my own sweet, strong, tough lover." Phone call 2, Tom to Luke T: "Hello, is that my darling boy? I'm missing you more than words can say. I NEED you now, right here on top of me in the bed, my arms around you, your back against my chest and your arse against my tool. I want to get hold of that cock of yours and stroke it gently till it's nice and hard, I want to roll a rubber onto it as you're lying there, I want to rub K-Y on the rubber till it's nice and slippery, then I would release you so that you can lube my hole up. Then I want you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me HARD!" L: "Oh, Tom, the very thought of what you've just said nearly drives me crazy. I'm nearly dying of lust. My dick is itching to penetrate your shithole, squeezing through that ring and getting into your gut, where I will push and thrust and pull nearly out and thrust again and bugger you till you cry out for me to stop. But I won't stop! My dirty desire will drive me to keep on boring my prick into your hole, the sweat dripping off me till I finally shoot my load up your bum, and at the moment that I come, a huge fart will come blasting out of my rear end!" T: "How can you be so hard and dominant when I want you to be soft and submissive? You're only a tiny teenager with the good luck to have a big tool. I want to own you body and soul, to feel that you are my own private possession, a treasure-house of love, joy and intelligence that is mine, all mine. I know you need company in far-off wop-land, but the mere thought of a woman holding your hand upsets me, the thought that maybe, just maybe, you might end up up her cunt gives me a thrill of horror. I know that you wouldn't, maybe even couldn't, fuck a woman, but the thought still scares me!" L: "Fuckin' liar! I'm NOT a fuckin' teenager, I'm nearly twenty-one and so are you! And 1 metre 95 is NOT tiny! But you've nothing to fear. However tender and/or passionate a woman can get, she'll not waste time on a man who's waking thoughts are dominated by another man. The nice thing about being a man is to have it both ways, to fuck and be fucked, to dominate and to submit, to be top and to be bottom. The sooner we're in bed together, the better! There are all sorts of things that I want to do to you that we've never done before!" T: "Yes, my sweet boy. See you, suck you, shag you soon! Goodbye!" Chapter Five Lovemaking at Loxton The Martinmas term ended in mid-December, and I had maintained a scholar's standard of performance in my Progress Test. I locked up my non-required items in my college room and moved with Jon to Rockwell's Barn, where my darling boy joined us after flying to Gatwick and coming on to Ixfordingworth by train. David was in Amsterdam, singing with Nederlandse Opera in the Musiektheater. He would fly to Durham-Tees Valley Airport and come to Loxton by cab or hire-car a couple of days before Christmas. Cathy joined us the next day and the four of us drove to Loxton a week before Christmas. This year I was not a guest, I was one of the family. The bedroom we used on the top floor of the house had been refurbished with a king-size bed instead of the two old narrow single beds, so Luke and I could sleep together. We went to bed early on our first night, locked the door and began to make up for a long period of separation. I took advantage of being bigger and heavier than my sweet boy to go first. I started to undress him, and after we were both naked (fortunately the Scarborough family home was well heated), I began to kiss his feet. I kissed every toe on both feet before moving up his left leg: instep, then heel, then ankle, then shin, then knee, then thigh, then crotch. Having reached his manhood, I began to lick and nuzzle his balls, one at a time before moving my lips along the shaft of his stiff tool until I reached his foreskin and began to nibble it. He groaned with delight. "You've no idea how much I've missed you!" he whispered. "Solitary sex or gentleman's self-relief is a poor substitute for the real thing. I really need your meat up my rear-end! Fuck me NOW!" I slipped a condom onto my rock-hard cock and then lubed us both up quickly and made him stand up beside the bed and bend over. I wrapped my arms round his body, and pushed my dick gently but firmly between his arse-cheeks and pushed even harder to pass his sphincter ring. It was quite stiff after several months without penetration. When I had got inside, I ran my lips along his backbone, kissing and nuzzling and inhaling the scent of Storing pour Homme, before beginning to work my tool in and out. After nearly four months of abstinence, the sheer bliss of our intercourse sent me nearly crazy, and although I had of course pleasured myself numerous times in the interval, I still had a big load to discharge when the climax arrived! "Luke!" I muttered as I came, trying to avoid raising my voice when my orgasm was at its most violent. As the blood ebbed out of my cock and it slowly shrank, I withdrew it gently from Luke's hole. I had difficulty in tying the condom up, there was so much of my white blood in it. I dropped it on the floor and lifted Luke on to the bed and lay down beside him. "My lovely boy, it is SO good to be with you again, light of my life!" "Tom, you're just as delicious in lovemaking as I remembered. I was a bit frightened that my imagination had exaggerated my memories of what you did to me, but no, you are still the king of the backdoor boys, and I am your very humble and obedient servant, indeed I just want to melt away in your strong arms," Luke replied. "I feel unworthy of such a passionate, almost obsessive love that you are offering me. How could I ever hope to reach the depths of such devotion? I am reminded of Wesley's words, admittedly speaking of God's love in Jesus Christ, 'in vain the firstborn seraph tries, to sound the depths of love divine.' Obviously human love is inferior to God's love in strength and purpose, but qualitatively it is the same. We love as a response and reminder of God's supreme love." "It's time that you took a turn, my arsehole is at your disposal," I said with a possessive smile. "Let's just rest for a bit and talk," Luke said. "I'll tell you the story of the thirteenth-century Austrian bagijn, Agnes Blannbekin. Bagijns were wealthy women, often widows, who chose to live a communal religious life, but each in her own house, only meeting for prayer in the chapel seven times per day. Agnes had visions of Jesus, the saints and various other people, visions that were distinctly erotic, as the personages, who included monks and nuns, were often naked and sometimes danced. The most famous vision of Agnes was an experience in which she felt the foreskin of Jesus, cut off at His circumcision, in her mouth. It tasted deliciously sweet. Every time that she tried to swallow it, it reappeared and the experience only ceased when she put her finger into her mouth to touch it. She had other visions too, such as being kissed on the cheeks by the Lamb of God. You can see why I call her the patron saint of fellatio! Although she was venerated as a holy person, she was never officially canonized. She died in 1315 in her convent in Vienna. "One of the most important things that my father taught me was that not until the eighteenth century did people distinguish between religious love and human family and sexual love. Until that time, it was normal to think of the love of God for us, and our love for Him in sexual and erotic terms, because that is the only kind of love that we know. I know that you have felt the same sensation that I have during fucking, when you feel that not only spunk, but also love, perhaps even God's love, is also being transferred. Anyway, I must cease theologizing and make the most of the next few minutes." He began to kiss my face, he nibbled my neck and shoulders and moved progressively down my body, getting himself highly aroused as he did so. He rolled a condom onto his now rockhard dick and started to apply K-Y gel to it and then he gently lifted up my cock and balls and asked me to spread my legs. He then applied the lube to my perineum, crack and hole, and poked fingers loaded with gel into the hole. When he was done, he lifted my legs onto his shoulders and began to penetrate my man-hole gently. He pushed firmly and determinedly through the ring muscle and entered my rectum. He then speeded up and his well-lubed cock slid regularly in and out of my hole. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and smiled at me hungrily as he set to work. After some minutes of supreme delight for both of us, he shot his load. In that time I felt that Luke was giving me some exalted, maybe spiritual gift, and I began to understand what he had been saying about the depths of love. Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 01 As he withdrew his rapidly shrinking tool from my anal orifice, I smiled and said to him, "No more problems in keeping it up now? Remember your unsuccessful first time? I felt SO sorry for you. It could just as easily have been I who failed and let you down. But you still managed the most memorable blow-job that I have ever experienced!" I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on top of me and began to smother him with kisses. He relaxed and lay soft and delicious in my arms, as he murmured, "I love you so much, Tom!" Within ten minutes, we were both asleep, two knotted condoms lying on the floor beside our bed. Chapter Six Christmas at Loxton When David arrived at Loxton for the festive season from Amsterdam, he surprised all the family by announcing that he was planning a career change. He would continue his usual singing career for six months of the year, from October to March, but the other six months would be devoted mainly to teaching singing, with only the odd one-off performing gig, and his teaching would be based in the Netherlands. His mother was delighted to hear that for the first time for years, David would be resident in her native land. He and Jon already owned a house in the Netherlands, in Heemstede. It was currently let, but the tenancy expired in June, and David had started booking a few lessons already from July, to allow a month to furnish the place. The full business would not begin until the following July, when Luke would have finished his undergraduate programme, and I would only have a few months to complete to get my M.Chem. This allowed David to fulfil his outstanding summer performance commitments. Evelina, his business manager had fixed the fees that he would charge, based on a model used by Marcello, of 150% above the going rate. There was going to be a fees-remission system for really promising students without much money, but details of that were still being worked out. The other possibility was that he might approach one of the Dutch music colleges/conservatories for a part-time professorship. Jon would join David in the Netherlands from July to September, and Cathy would live there too, unless she wanted to stay in the flat in Camford or with her grandparents. Luke and I would have to spend most of the vacations in the flat, except for July and September, when we might join Luke's parents in Heemstede or stay with David's parents in Loxton. It was probable that if both my lover and I continued with jobs in Camford, we might spend the weekends at Rockwell's Barn, otherwise it might be mothballed, unless David's parents decided to sell up in Loxton and move to Ixton, as Mr Scarborough was due for retirement in two years' time. Christmas passed in its usual fashion. The weather was mild, and we explored the countryside round David's old home. It was nice to see Luke's grandparents again, and he and I paid a short visit to see my sister and Mr Silverdale, and this year there were no problems with the weather. Mr Silverdale's chemotherapy had been effective and there were hopes that the cancer had been eliminated. It was wonderful to see him looking so much better. He was even considering going back to teaching. However, Luke thought that he would mention Mr Silverdale to Jon, who might well know of a more interesting job for him. We all returned to Ixton on January 6, and a week later the Candlemas term began and Luke flew back to Bologna. Chapter Seven An earthquake and a nasty shock At the end of February, the north of Italy was shaken by an earthquake. It was not a particularly severe one, and I thought nothing of it until I failed to contact Luke on his mobile phone. The message always went to voicemail, and his phone behaved as if it were switched off, which it never was. Then I got a call on my mobile from Jon. "Tom, I've got some bad news. Luke was in a building that collapsed during the earthquake, and he's unconscious in hospital in Bologna with concussion. Can you come with me to see him? I've booked two seats on tomorrow's flight from Bristol to Guglielmo-Marconi." At once I sent E-mails to the Dean of Buckingham, Alex, Steve, Colin Vaughan and Margaret saying that I had been called away urgently to the bedside of my fiancé, who had been injured in the Italian earthquake, but that I would be back in Camford as soon as possible. I left a note for my bedder to the same effect and then threw some essential items into a bag and rushed off to Fountain Street. We got up early and drove to Bristol Airport the next day. Jon told me that he had telephoned Luke's mother, who didn't know about the accident, because on Luke's unconscious body they had found his passport naming Jon as next of kin with his phone number. The short journey was hell. I was filled with dread, foreboding, apprehension and misery, and Jon looked just as bad. He said that David was flying to Bologna from Berlin, where he was singing Don Ottavio in 'Don Giovanni,' and would probably get there before us. We managed to get a cab from the airport to the hospital, where Luke lay unconscious. The outer suburbs of the city, which unlike the historic centre had been severely damaged, were still in a mess, with streets still closed and heaps of rubble everywhere. Dorothea and David were already at Luke's bedside. Apparently there were no other injuries, so far as could be ascertained. The doctors assured us that prolonged unconsciousness was not unusual in cases of concussion. I offered to spend the night at his bedside. The others went off for a meal and then a night's sleep. Fortunately most of the hotels were undamaged and still functioning, as indeed was the hospital. The number of casualties was only in double figures, which was surprising, but the epicentre had been well outside the city. I sat there most of the night in gloom and despair, looking at my lover's wonderful raven-black hair spread out on the pillow, and wondering how we would all cope if he remained indefinitely in a coma. I realized how rarely I had seen him asleep, as he was always awake first. He looked so sweet and peaceful as he lay there, and my heart seemed to be breaking within me. Luke's unconsciousness lasted for a further three days. We took it in turns to spend the night at his bedside. The intervening period was awful. David was continually on the phone or sending E-mails, cancelling or postponing various gigs. Jon was frantically E-mailing his first-year students, postponing tutorial sessions, Luke's mother was on the phone to her mother who was looking after Sandro and Bianca. Only I seemed to have nothing to do. I remembered how Luke had prayed regularly every night. I wondered if I should try it. I didn't know any prayers, so I would just have to talk to God (if He existed) in my own words, so I just asked Him to make sure that Luke would recover unharmed from his concussion. [To be continued.] Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 02 [Pt. 01 should be read first] Chapter Eight Awakening On the fourth night after our arrival, and a week after he had been rescued from the rubble, I was taking my second turn overnight with him and early in the grey morning about 5-30 am, Luke stirred. At once I rang for a nurse and held his hand. I squeezed it, and there was a response. His eyelids flickered and then opened and he smiled. "Tom!" he murmured, and he closed his eyes again. I sighed in relief: at least he had recognized me. When the nurse came, I did my best to explain that Luke had opened his eyes, but as she spoke no English, it was difficult. She felt his pulse and nodded approvingly. At 8 am, David came and I told him what had happened, and he explained it to the nurses. An hour or two later, after I had gone back to the hotel to get some sleep, Luke awakened fully and talked to David, who had been holding his hand. He told David that he had dreamt about me. David told him that it was not a dream, that indeed I had sat at his bedside all night. At 2 pm David called me at the hotel on my mobile and as intended, it woke me up. When I heard that Luke was conscious, I rushed off to the hospital after a hasty wash, without eating or shaving. When I got there, the doctors had been to see him, and his mother and Pop were also there. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and I knelt down beside the bed and kissed him gently. He struggled into a sitting position, and said that the doctors needed to carry out more tests, particularly CT and MRI scans, but these were not expected to take more than a couple of days, during which time, he would be given food and got properly on to his feet. It was arranged that I would stay and hold Luke's hand for a few hours and the others would then come and collect me for a celebratory meal. It was bliss, just to sit there holding his hand as he lay there smiling lovingly at me. A wave of tenderness seemed to engulf me, and the heavy feeling of the last few days vanished. "Pass me my phone, my sweet," he said. "I must ring the boys at the apartment and tell them what's happened to me. Fortunately the rent was paid in advance!" We were taken by Tom's mother to an excellent small restaurant. We knew that even if no damage was found, Tom would need a couple of weeks to recover after discharge from the hospital. David and Jon wanted to take him back to England, but his mother said no, she would look after him and make sure that he was well enough before returning to his studies. We finally agreed that Jon and David, who had jobs to do, would go back home after Luke's test results had been established and he was discharged from hospital, and I would accompany him back to his mother's house, stay for a couple of days and see him settled there, before returning to Camford. When I went back to the hospital to see Luke, an attractive girl with dark hair was sitting at his bedside, talking animatedly in Italian. In spite of her presence, I put my arms round Luke and kissed him, to show her that he belonged to me. Luke introduced me to Leonora and we had a halting conversation in English. She seemed very glad to discover that Luke was OK, and I couldn't help wondering if she was attracted to him. However, I knew my boy well enough to know that she would never take him from me. I felt no jealousy at all. No damage to the brain or any of the surrounding tissues was found, cognitive tests showed no mental impairment, and two days later Massimo came to collect us in his car and take us home with him. I was given a bed in the same room as Luke and we had a blissful hour or two kissing and cuddling. I refused to allow him to do any energetic sex, rest was essential for him. Just to hold his hand and kiss him was enough. My darling boy had come back from a near-death experience. He had no memory whatsoever of how he came to be in the suburban building in which he had been found. The last thing he could remember before the earthquake was attending a lecture, but everything after that was blank until he woke up momentarily in hospital to find me holding his hand. I E-mailed Colin Vaughan to say that Luke was on the mend, and I would be back in time for my tutorial the following Friday. Luke's mother was very good, cooking us excellent meals, Sandro and Bianca kept him company when they were not at school, and after a couple of blissful days, I took a flight from Gugliemo-Marconi Airport to London-Gatwick, knowing that Luke would be well cared for during the next week or ten days. When I left for the airport, I did something entirely untypical. I embraced and kissed Luke's mother and thanked her for caring for the most important and most precious person in my life. Tearfully, I also thanked her for bringing him into the world. Luke had brought a stack of reading with him, but I suspected that Sandro would get him spending most evenings kicking a football about. Luke had decided not to shave off his week-old beard, and when I had got used to it, I thought it rather suited him. Like his hair, it was wavy and black and velvety soft. When I got back to Camford, I phoned my tutor Colin and asked him if the Dean would take any disciplinary action for my absence without leave. He said that he had already talked to the Dean and no action would be taken, as it was clearly compassionate leave. He also assured me that missing a few lectures should not be a problem. If I did have any difficulties, he would give me a special tuition session. He was so understanding, and such a contrast to the man who had tutored me in my first year. I E-mailed Professor Bairstow, told him about Luke, and asked for his prayers. Of course I also asked the Chaplain of Buckingham, Francis Eglantine to put Luke on the college prayer list. I even went into the college chapel and said a prayer of thanks for Luke's safe recovery. I E-mailed Cathy in Oxbridge, assuring her that her brother was safe and recovering rapidly in his mother's care The second night back, I went to a concert in the Town Hall with Margaret, who was glad to see me back. She commented on how lively I was, and I explained that it was due to thankfulness that Luke had recovered so well from his accident. I even kissed her more passionately than I normally did, because I was very ebullient, although at the same time I had no desire to awaken anything deeper than friendship. After ten days, Luke E-mailed me to say that he was back in Bologna and attending lectures and hoping there would soon be a new opera at the Teatro Communale, as he was looking forward to seeing Leonora again. Chapter Nine Exchange of E-mails II From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My sweet darling boy I went for a "clean weekend" with Leonora last Friday! Very moral, separate rooms at the hotel etc. It was by way of being a religious pilgrimage. We took the train to Orta-Miasino. Orta is a small village on the lake of the same name near Lake Maggiore. The place is famous for a spiritual walk or 'devotional itinerary' celebrating the life of Saint Francis of Assisi. In the late sixteenth century on a flat-topped hill, the Sacro Monte or Holy Hill, above the village they began to build a series of carefully planned and landscaped chapels, twenty in total, each devoted to an event in the life of Saint Francis. It took 200 years to build them all. The chapels contain both statues and murals showing Francis's history for the benefit of illiterate country folk. We spent the whole day going round this UNESCO World Heritage Site. We said a prayer at each chapel and ate a picnic lunch. I had made sure that I had my gay perfume on, but she did not seem to notice it. I attach a photo of Chapel VI, depicting Francis sending the friars out to preach, with some of the statues. We dined in a little taverna in the evening, went to mass together on the Sunday and generally behaved like a pious engaged couple, except that bodily contact was limited to hand-holding! I hope that Leonora's vocation is a strong one, because she is so sweet and I would hate to be the person who destroyed it. It would be a disaster for both of us if she fell in love with me. Do you think I am playing with fire? We came back to Bologna on the Sunday night, and I saw her back to her apartment. Fortunately from our point of view, my knowledge that I could never get an erection with a woman means that you can be quite secure in my faithfulness to you! My precious lad, although I don't often talk to you about my faith, it means a great deal to me, and the opportunity of a spiritual weekend is of enormous value to me, and will be reflected in the way I behave to others, including you. I hope that Leonora also found it valuable spiritually. It would have been wonderful if you had been with me instead of Leonora, but it would have been a different and much less spiritual experience. I hope you understand that. My wonderful man-partner, I love you, Ever your own Luca.' XXXXXX From t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk to: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My darling brown boy STOP HOLDING LEONORA'S HAND! You ARE playing with fire. Every human being has to choose between relationships with a man, a woman or no relationship at all (on the physical level). To choose between a relationship with a person of the same sex and one of the opposite sex is a matter of balancing the two physical pulls. To choose between a sexual relationship and no sexual relationship is choosing between a positive and a negative as far as mind and body are concerned, and it requires a much smaller pull to go from a negative to a positive. You could say that it was nature abhoring a vacuum. So you are putting Leonora's vocation to celibacy to a very severe test, and her vocation could easily crumble. Unless you want to ruin her life you must talk to her about this. The worst-case scenario is that she falls in love with you and throws herself at you in the hope of saving you from a wicked perversion. That would destroy her life, and you would feel guilty for the rest of yours. Put your cards on the table and say that company and friendship for a few months is all that you want, and stop holding her hand! It would be hard to say it in English, so I hope that you can manage it in Italian! I don't have the same problem, because in Sarah I have a jealous girlfriend watching every move that Margaret makes! I know little about religion, except that I asked God to bring you back to consciousness and He did, but I don't think that you believe in a God who is jealous of the relationships that His followers form with other human beings. Term draws to an end, and apart from my five days with the choir in Austria, and our week in Nice, I will spend most of the Easter vac at Rockwell's Barn, revising for my Part I exams, and relaxing in the pool when I need exercise. I've not spent any weekends there this term. In a couple of weeks' time, we'll be together in Nice and I'm really looking forward to a good fuck. I love you so much. I wonder what lovemaking will be like with that beard of yours! If it gets in the way, I may have to ask you to shave it off. My darling lover, I ache for the time when we can sleep together every night. Your ever-loving Tom.' XXXXX From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@bqqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My darling Tom Bologna University has a long Easter break, and I do not see any point in coming home, because you have exam revision to do and we will be seeing one another in Nice. So I took the liberty of phoning my long neglected Uncle Jeroen, in Geneva, whom you have never met. He works for a big Swiss engineering company and I am going to see him and his family for a few days, just before Easter. In the meantime, I took your advice and talked to Leonora about our relationship. To my relief, she says that she is very content to accept that we can never have a romantic relationship. She said that having met you and heard that you had sat up all night with me when I was unconscious and seen the way that I looked at you, she knew that she could never come between us. She added that I could continue to hold her hand if I wanted to, because she knew that it was important for human beings, even monks and nuns, to have physical but non-sexual contact with other people. Moreover, she said that she did not consider sex between two men who loved one another to be sinful, only sex for the sake of sex, a viewpoint that I entirely agree with. I reckon that I have met a very untypical woman! When I told her that, she said that I was a very untypical man. But I guess that all human beings are to some extent untypical! That is one of the glories of God's creation. She will make a good nun. To be a monk or nun, you do not have to hate or despise the world. Indeed, you have to love it, so that you are sacrificing something when you take the vows. Otherwise, you are simply running away from it. The same applies to celibacy. If you enter an order as a virgin, it makes it easier for you, because you do not know what you are giving up. But the reasons for entering a religious order are not because you like or enjoy poverty, chastity and obedience, or that you hate money, sex and the world, but because you love Jesus and want to put service of Him before all else. I've not told my mother about Leonora yet. After all, I don't usually see Leonora at weekends. When I went with her to Orta, I think my mother thought I was at the English church in Bologna. I don't want Mamma to get the wrong idea. Am I the only man who is not interested in what women have between their legs? I have now just about got used to calling her Mamma, which is what Sandro and Bianca call her and I know that I now love her. I've also realized what I missed by not having a mother. She has been so sweet while she has been looking after me here. I know how much you loved your mother, and now I'm coming to realize that in some ways I missed out by being brought up by men. I'm also coming closer to understanding the complexities of her life. Like you, she has undergone a lot of hardship, which I'm scarcely in a position to understand, having led a comfortable life with lovely parents and you, my precious boy! But Massimo is a splendid husband, and fully appreciates the sweet and intelligent woman who is his wife. The problem was that she did not meet him early enough. If she had, that idle philandering waster my biological father, would probably never have had his way with her. On the other hand, in that case neither Sandro nor myself would have been born! Of course, Massimo and Mamma might well have had a son and named him Alessandro, but he would not have been my brother Sandro. So I leave by train for Geneva via Milan and the Simplon Tunnel on Monday. Not having a BlackBerry, and not wanting to lug a laptop with me, it may be a while before you get further E-mails from me, but I will try and phone you from Geneva. My darling muscle-boy, I love you, Your ever-loving boy Luca.' XXXXXXX From: l.c.singleton-scarborough@qqqqq.ac.uk to t.appleton@qqqqq.ac.uk 'My precious Tom Well, I got safely to Geneva and Uncle Jeroen met me at the station. It's three or four years since I last met him, and it is only the third time that I have met my Aunt Liesbet, and she and my Uncle have been married for about twelve years. They are both great people and made me very welcome. They have two children, Andrew Johannes, aged ten and Maria Eva aged eight, who were also pleased to see me. Dad has always been specially fond of his little brother, but contact between them has involved mainly phone and E-mail since Dad became a professional singer and kept travelling all over Europe. He has not sung much in Switzerland. My little cousins are rather sweet: they speak both English and French, and preferred to talk to me in French. They even had me reading them a bedtime story in French! Tom, I know it's not something that we have discussed, but I do hope that once we become partners you will want us to have children. But if you don't, I will still love you as much as ever. There are often career sacrifices to make if a couple of gays have children, just look at my parents. Uncle Jeroen's family live in a suburb of Geneva, which is a lovely, if expensive city, though my personal religion does not warm to the home of Calvinism. We had some wonderful trips to various places like Lausanne and resorts on the Lake like Territet. You may meet the children shortly. It seems that Jeroen's employer is moving Jeroen and family to Locarno in October, in the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland on Lake Maggiore, for a big engineering job lasting at least three years. They have the problem of the children's education. They are at present at French-speaking schools, and when they move to Locarno, they do not want to send the children to International or British schools: they want them to go to local schools, which means that they are going to have to learn Italian quickly. I telephoned Pop, and he suggested that the two children spend the first month of their summer holidays in July, at Rockwell's Barn, where he and I and hopefully sometimes Dad or Marcello, will give them a month of speaking only Italian! Maybe after your exams you could join them, and see if you can pick up some Italian in the couple of weeks after I get home. Children of that age who are bright (and these two certainly are) can pick up languages quickly, and Pop will give them some elementary grammar lessons in the afternoons, which you could sit in on. I've just looked on the WWW, and have found your tour programme in Austria, and I see that Buckingham College Choir are singing in Innsbruck on Friday. I will see whether I can get there from here, and if I have enough clothes, I will stay and go on to Nice with you rather than returning to Bologna or to Mamma's. Maybe I need to buy a BlackBerry as well! Well, it won't be long now before we are in bed together. I love you, master man-fucker Luca.' XXXXXXXX Chapter Ten Interval in Innsbruck Luke turned up in Innsbruck as he had said, and checked in an hotel. Not knowing what the arrangements were, he turned up at the church where the performance was to be held, and managed to get a seat near the front. It was a big church, our choir was obscure, so there were no problems in getting in! We were half-way through our performance of Latin and English church music of the seventeenth century, of which the highlight was Händel's 'Dixit Dominus domino meo,' before I spotted him in the audience. Up to that point, our audiences had been moderately enthusiastic and that night was no exception. It was our last concert and when Luke joined us as we were getting ready to leave, everyone welcomed him. We adjourned to the nearest hostelry to drink to our successful tour, we thanked the organ scholar for organizing it, and Luke bought us a round of drinks, it being his apology, as he put it, for missing the tour. All the choir were glad to welcome him back after his recovery. He told me, as our tour was now at an end, and I was planning to leave for France the following day, to go back to the Youth Hostel where we were staying, check that nothing was owing for my accommodation, pick up all my possessions and bags and come and join him at his hotel, where he had booked a double room. The choir members had eaten before the concert, so when we got to the hotel, Luke had a simple meal sent up by room service, together with a bottle of Prosecco. Before we undressed, I threw my arms round him and inhaled the scent of Storing pour Homme that, though alone in Italy, he had worn religiously every day, and I began to kiss him hungrily. His beard felt soft and silky, though I was not sure if I liked the moustache. "Would you like me to feed you?" I asked with a grin. Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 02 "Just the first three mouthfuls," he replied, "then I'll see to myself. After all, you've been singing, whereas all I've done today is to sit on my arse on train or church pew!" I put my right arm round his shoulder while I fed him forkfuls of omelette. He did not need my assistance to take deep swigs of the Prosecco. After he had emitted a couple of noisy burps, he took the fork from me and I was left holding his hand as he ate. Every so often, I would kiss it as I sipped my Prosecco and fed him the odd chipped potato. I kept the other hand round him, caressing his right nipple. "I've missed you more since you had the accident, and I worry about you more. It will be so good when we're back in bed together for the summer. When are we going to tie the knot?" "I thought next year in early September when you've got your Master's dissertation almost finished. We'll both be twenty-two by then. It should still be warm enough for grandma Singleton to come to England to see us sign the register." "What surname are we going to have, or shall we stick with our existing ones? Singleton-Scarborough-Appleton is just too long-winded." "Appleton-Singleborough?" "Well, we don't have to decide yet. And family?" "Not till we've been working for a few years and got our careers sorted out. I expect that you will want to do a Ph.D." "Get your underpants down, I want to kiss your arse. I want to run my lips over the delicious curve of your rump. It's much smoother than your face with that beard! I've so missed your delicious body." "Oh, Tom, I've missed you too. Female company is nothing compared with what you can give me. To lie enfolded in your arms is the nearest to paradise that I have ever been. I've only got to look at your sweet face and my third leg swells up and stands up like a bayonet!" "I love to see the tip of your glans peeping out of your foreskin. I'm longing to get my fingers underneath your foreskin, and to nibble it with my teeth, and I'm dying to get that bayonet into my mouth and suck it dry! You have the most beautiful dick of any man that I have seen naked! The big advantage of the Fitness Centre is that wonderful opportunity to inspect at least half a dozen dicks every time you go for a swim." "Next time we're at Rockwell's Barn together, I'll show you some of the dick pictures in my parents' porn library. There are three fat volumes of photos of men's dicks: men of all races, of all ages and of all sizes of cock. Most of the pictures also show the same man's arse, so if you're an arse lover, as you are, you get a good idea of how each man looks from both front and back." "Seeing isn't the same as touching though. When I see a nice arse, I want to run my hand over it and when I see a nice cock, I want to get hold of it." "Well, you can get hold of mine right now, and do whatever you want with it!" Without further ado, I did exactly that. The tip of the glans was already oozing with precome, and I used the lubrication to slip my finger under Luke's foreskin and wiggle it around. Then I bent down and began to nibble the edges of the foreskin. Luke nearly went crazy. "Oh, Tom that's wonderful. Eat my foreskin up. Be the the next Agnes Blannbekin! I don't suppose that it will taste sweet, though!" "Anything to do with you tastes sweet to me. I could lick your sweaty feet and it would taste like honey!" I took Luke's cock into my mouth and started to suck it strongly. The warm, moist, firm yet lumpy cylinder just fitted nicely into my mouth. He began to make gentle yet firm fucking movements, and the to-and-fro motion in my mouth made me shiver with pleasure. I clasped each of his buttocks with my two hands; their sweet roundness nearly sent me mad with love and desire. The thought that I might have lost that precious man who was clasped in my arms sent a wave of relief and thankfulness to God through my entire being, mind as well as body. I wanted this man never to leave me, to be in my arms and in my bed every single day for the rest of our lives. I wanted this man to be the father of my children. After a few minutes of passionate bliss, he came violently and filled my mouth with his hot jism. I savoured it for a minute or so before ingesting the DNA of my wonderful partner. "Luke," I said to him, "I think that I am beginning to believe in God. He has done so much for me. He gave you to me in my hour of need, He brought you back from near-death to be mine again. He obviously out of His goodness wants to share you with me. And when we do what I'm about to do to you, the spunk that I inject into you symbolizes the love that God has for you. I feel like His humble servant, conveying His love to you. I think that I want to believe. I want to share in the other way that God conveys His love, I want to eat His body and drink His blood, I want to know His presence inside me, slowly digesting and becoming part of me. When I get back to Camford, I'm going to talk to your friend Edward Bairstow, and see what he advises." "Oh, Tom!" Luke replied, "that's the best news you've ever given me! I want you to know and feel God's love. Don't rush into anything. Edward will give you all the help that you need. He did it for Pop and he will do it for you. I wonder if my sweet Leonora has been praying for us." After applying a final kiss to Luke's face, I spread his legs out and reached for a condom. After the usual mechanical preliminaries, I hooked his ankles on to my shoulders and got to work up his anus, bending forward at intervals to kiss his soft beard,while he reached up and fondled my nipples. After a delightful interval, I came just as strongly and copiously as Luke had done. I laid his legs back on the bed and lowered myself gently on top of him and began to kiss his hairy face while he stroked my shoulders, the small of my back and my hairy arse. My cock shrank and slipped out of Luke's hole and I knotted the condom, dropped it on the floor, lay down beside my brown lover and took him in my arms. Wrapped up in each other, with post-coital weariness, we soon fell asleep. Chapter Eleven Easter in Nice I had a train ticket purchased on the internet, to take me second class to Nice, via the shortest route, which seemed to be via Verona, Milan and Genoa. We got to the Hauptbahnhof in time for Luke to buy a ticket, but he insisted not only on buying a first-class ticket at 50% more, but also upgrading mine to first class. "It will be more comfortable, we won't have to scramble for seats and it will be easier to talk," he explained. I noted with approval that he was wearing some Armani clothes, quite appropriate for our mode of travel. He looked so sweet that when we got into our first class seats, I couldn't help but give him a sly kiss. A few minutes into our journey an attendant came and took our orders for coffee and asked if we wanted lunch, which as we were travelling first class would be served at our seats. We decided to push the boat out and enjoy lunch with a bottle of Orvieto. We reached Nice in the evening and found David, Jonathan and Cathy already installed at the hotel, where we were just in time for dinner. We were to go round to Jon's mother's after dinner for coffee. We were particularly glad to see her and I was able to explain to her that it was thanks to her generosity that we had been able to get engaged, and we showed her our 'mangagement rings.' She seemed absolutely delighted to see us, though true to form, she managed to say to me caustically, "I see that Luke has managed to get you into some decent clothes!" It was true that I had made sure that I had brought along some of the designer outfits that I had bought at Luke's prompting. Mrs Singleton was concerned when she heard about Luke's accident and was relieved that he had fully recovered. She made one very important comment to him, she said, "Luke, you would be strongly advised to make a new will as soon as possible, if you want Tom to inherit anything." We realized that it was true: his present will was much too vague. I realized too that I needed to make a will as well, otherwise my feckless father and my older sisters would share in what I would wish to go to Liz exclusively. We decided to do it as soon as we were both back in Camford. It would involve us in a trip to London to see Tim Ingledown, Jon's man of business. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that in spite of her eccentricities, and in spite of her blunt, indeed often crude mode of speech, Mrs Singleton was a shrewd and likeable old lady. After all she had made it possible for Luke and me to get engaged, and made me independent until I had graduated and got a job, and there was enough money for a deposit for a house or apartment if we wished to add to the Singleton-Scarborough property empire. So I suggested to Tom that he and I took his grandmother out for dinner. We would go to an expensive restaurant, dolled up somewhat (within the limits of the clothes we had brought with us, and at least good enough to pass the dress code). It was a potentially tricky operation, as one never knew how she would react in any situation, but what the hell, we were a long way from home, and if she did anything embarrassing, we would not have to live with it! We arranged it for the Monday of Easter week. We chose, as you might expect, a chic Italian restaurant rather than a smart hotel. We picked her up in a taxi and drove to the restaurant, which was slightly out of the town centre. Once the meal had begun, Luke said to her, "Grandmother, keep September next year free from major commitments, because Tom and I will be signing the Civil Partnership register some time in that month. The weather in Camford should still be warm enough for you to come and see us officially united. There will also be a private act of worship in the prayer room at Rockwell's Barn, but we have not yet fixed dates or details. But we are definitely going to tie the knot!" She replied, "It's years since I was last in England, but for you two boys, I will do it! I might take in a few shows and fashionable restaurants in London while I'm there. I may need company for some of them. I don't have many friends left in England, only about two. The rest are all dead." "You can rely on us if you need company, in London or Camford," I assured her. "You know, I much prefer you two to David and Jonathan, or Cathy for that matter. They would never do what I wanted. They refused to dance together or swim naked when invited to do so in my neighbour's pool!" "They don't like dancing. Besides, a lot of people get offended when they see two men dancing together," said Luke, "but we wouldn't mind you seeing us swimming naked." "Right! I'll have a word with my neighbours and see if they will lend their pool for a spot of skinny-dipping!" The rest of the evening passed quietly and we took Mrs Singleton back to her apartment. Next day, about noon, the phone rang in our hotel room. Fortunately, I was there to answer it. It was grandmother and she told us to come round at 4 pm, when her neighbours' pool would be at our disposal. When we told Luke's parents, Cathy hooted derisively and his Pop said "You must be mad! The water in an outside pool will be freezing cold at this time of the year. Much better to use the heated hotel pool!" We told him that we were doing it to satisfy the voyeuse cravings of our financial benefactress, and that we did not plan to stay in the water very long. When we arrived, equipped with towels, but no cozzies, we made it clear to Jon's mother that no photographs were allowed. We said that while we were not embarrassed about taking all our clothes off, we did not want our nude bodies preserved for posterity. The pool had a small changing room attached in which we left our clothes. We came out of it in our 'birthday suits' and holding hands, we jumped into the water. It was not deep enough to dive. The water was not actually particularly cold, and we began to swim up and down in the fifteen-metre pool. While we swam, the sun came out and began to shine quite strongly. Mrs Singleton sat in a garden chair and waved at us from time to time. She beckoned to us to swim across and talk to her, so we lined up in the water, our heads above the side of the pool. "I wish I were David Hockney," she said, "you two would make a wonderful painting, your heads and shoulders sticking up at the side of the pool, arms around one another, your cocks concealed by the parapet of the pool! Go and get dressed, and I will get us a bottle of Prosecco." We did as we were told, and decided that the old lady was not as eccentric as Luke's fathers had told us. Chapter Twelve The Pentecost term in Camford When I returned to Camford, there was just ten days before the beginning of the Pentecost term. Luke had returned to Bologna, where lectures had already resumed. I had a lot of work to get through. Cathy had gone back to Oxbridge early (their terms were different). David was abroad again, this time he had for the first time for some years been invited to sing at the Met in New York. The role was Count Almaviva in 'Il Barbiere di Siviglia' by Rossini. That left Jon and myself alone in Rockwell's Barn and we resolved to take it in turns to do the cooking and occasionally to go out to the Jellycotes Arms for our evening meal. I would get up early and before breakfast get a certain amount of work in while drinking a cup of coffee. I would spend all the morning with my books and notes, breaking off for no more than an hour for a bite of lunch with Jon. In the afternoon I would go for a walk lasting no more than an hour. On my return I would consume a cup of tea and resume revision work until about 5:30 pm. Then if it was my turn to do the cooking, I would get on with it and we would eat somewhere around about 7 o'clock. If on the other hand it was Jon's turn to do the cooking, I would swim 20 lengths in the pool. The absence of the distraction of sex meant that I made quite good progress during this period. Jon and I would then relax with a beer either at home or at the Jellycotes Arms before our evening meal. Often I would put in two or three hours work in the evening. Jon was busy working on on various projects associated with the Afforestation Trust. In collaboration with the Forestry Dept of Camford, they were conducting a survey of the health of the trees in his 17 different 'forests' (patches of woodland would be a more appropriate description) planted all over the country. It was hoped that this would enable us to see what were the toughest trees, irrespective of situation, that might be good for further planting. One day we went up to London by train from Ixfordingworth for a brief interview and lunch with Jon's man of business, Tim Ingledown. This was mainly to give me an opportunity to get to know Tim before the final discussions about our wills, which would take place on Luke's return in July. I took the opportunity to mention to both of them about Mr Silverdale, and his need for a job. They both asked me to try and get hold of his curriculum vitae. On the Saturday before the beginning of term, I moved back into college. Jon very kindly ran me in the 4x4 to Buckingham College and helped me unload my bags. He then left me there and I installed my things, opened up the cupboards and got out the items that had been put away, and generally prepared for the beginning of the new term. In the first week of term, I E-mailed Edward Bairstow and asked him if I could come and talk to him for half an hour about becoming a Christian. He E-mailed me back fixing an appointment one evening after dinner in his rooms in Sanguis. When I knocked on his door, he opened it and invited me in and shook my hand. "I didn't get chance to talk to you at your birthday party," he said, "but I know that you must love my godson very much, or he would not have gone to so much trouble to celebrate your birthday! Please tell me how you came to realize that God was approaching you. Everything you say will be in total confidence, so don't leave out any intimate details if they are relevant." "I'm glad that you said that," I said, "because some details are intimate. It is all to do with what Luke calls the sacramental side of sexual intercourse. When we have anal sex, and we always use a prophylactic, we vary in which of us is top. But we both feel when we're the active partner the same sensation, that something from outside ourselves is being transferred at the same time as seed. Luke sometimes calls it God's love, at other times he calls it grace. But we both feel that that something is from God. I don't know much about God, but when Luke was in hospital unconscious, I prayed to this Being that I did not know, asking Him to bring Luke back to me, and He did. So I owe it to Him to find out more about Him and His love and about this man Jesus Christ." "I think it's good that you have realized that God is calling you, Tom," said the Professor. "What happens now is that you need to learn more about Who it is who is calling you. But I can't give you the necessary instruction. That must come from your college chaplain, whom you must know, as you're in the chapel choir. I'll phone him and tell him about you." So I E-mailed the Rev Francis Eglantine, Chaplain of Buckingham and asked to meet him to discuss me receiving instruction in the Christian faith. When we met, he said, "I could send you on an Alpha Course, Tom, but it would take too long. You have just over a year left in College and you'll be busy in the Chemical Laboratory. So I will arrange that we will meet weekly for as much of the next year as we can. I have my doubts about the suitability of Alpha for Camford students anyway. There will almost certainly be a couple of Confirmation candidates next year, and you could be baptized at their confirmation." "I will be available in Camford for most of the Long Vac, sir," I said. "That's good," he said, "we'll start in July, as soon as your third-year exams are finished. You'll become a catechumen, someone undergoing instruction before baptism. I would hope that we can get you baptized and confirmed during the Pentecost term next year. That means that you will be able to use Lent, the period before Easter, for its original purpose of preparing the catechumens for their baptism into the church. You are very lucky to have had such a clear call to the faith. In the meantime, I'll give you these two little books. One is a small book of prayers that you might like to try, the other is a copy of the New Testament. But only try reading the first four books in the New Testament, the four gospels. Luke will give you help if you find anything that you don't understand." Early in June, being now a person of means, I invited Steve and Alex and Margaret and Sarah to dinner at the Sparrowhawk to celebrate my twenty-first birthday. I paid for all the food and the wine with the meal, and the first round of postprandial drinks. We didn't get a private room, but we did have a big table in a corner of the bar, rather out of sight. It was just prior to the exams and it turned into a very boozy evening. From my point of view, the drink was a good thing, as I had no partner to go home with. I returned unsteadily to my small single room in college and collapsed into my lonely single bed. There is not a lot otherwise to report about that Pentecost term. It was all work and grind with one evening a week off for Chapel choir practice, one evening practising with the Bach choir and one evening usually either going to a concert with Margaret or going with her and Sarah to a pub. Occasionally, but not weekly, I would go out for a drink with Steve and Alex. The rest of my time outside lecture and tutorial times, including the weekends, (except for Chapel, dinner and Sunday evening), I was extremely busy with revision, because classes continued until about week 7 of that term. Then there was a very short break before the examinations began in the first week of the summer vacation at the beginning of July. I remembered to E-mail Mrs Silverdale and ask her to try and secretly get hold of an up-to-date copy of her husband's CV. This she managed to do, and I forwarded it to both Jon and Tim Ingledown. Tom and Luke's Third Year Pt. 02 During the whole term, Luke and I continued our phone sex conversations and our regular exchange of E-mails. Luke was in the process of running down his activities, completing his work and sitting the remaining exams and tests that were necessary for him before completion of his year in Bologna. By now the opera season had finished, but he still occasionally went out to a concert with Leonora. He was delighted to hear that I was to receive instruction in the Christian faith. He said that he had asked Leonora if she had been praying for us, and she admitted that she had, and added that she felt guilty for praying for us without our consent. Luke immediately told her that not only were we happy to be prayed for, but that we would like her to continue doing so, particularly for me, now that I was about to become a catechumen. Every night as I fell asleep, I missed him. I wanted to enfold his slim body in my arms and swallow him up! Eventually the first day of my Final Public Examination, Part I, arrived. I had eight three-hour papers on a wide range of chemical topics spread over ten days, including one Saturday. The most stressful thing about the experience was the lack of my lover-boy to relax and unwind with at the end of the day. When he had been doing his second year exams, we had made love in some form or other every day. What we did do was to break our 'no daily phone calls' rule, and talk each day, often crudely, in an effort to shed the stress. Jon was very good too in helping me unwind. Sometimes he cooked an extra nice meal for us, other times he took me to the Sparrowhawk. He would not let me pay for my food, he said that I must just relax and go with the flow. On the last day of the exams, when I came out of the hall after the last paper, I was bowled over to find none other than Margaret and Sarah waiting for me on the steps of the Examination Schools with a bottle of Prosecco and three glasses. Swept away by relief of the tension, I hugged and kissed each of them in turn, though it was clear that Sarah did not relish being embraced by a man. After we had finished the wine, I insisted in taking the two of them out to dinner. We went to the Venezia with me still wearing my sub-fusc, which conformed to the restaurant's dress code (though I did leave my scholar's gown in the care of the cloakroom!), and had a very enjoyable, though unromantic evening. The waiters asked me when Luke was coming back from Bologna, and I said at the end of the month. They always enjoyed speaking their native language with him. Margaret and Sarah were going to their respective homes the next day, and I packed up my things and took everything in a cab to Fountain Street. There I found that Luke's two cousins, Andrew and Maria had arrived and were already with their uncle at Rockwell's Barn. Jon drove me there, as I was going to stay there until August 1, when my job at the Fitness Centre began again, and I would have to move back to Fountain Street. He asked me to help him on the Saturday with the farewell party that he gave each year for his first-year chemistry students. David would take the two children to a Safari park for the day. As usual, the Boni's students had a great time, huge quantities of beer, wine, food and soft drinks were consumed and there was much splashing and fooling around in the pool. That year there were six of them, and I joined them in the pool, mainly I confess to size up the men! Fortunately there were none so attractive as to put my self-control at risk! I began my catechumen classes with Francis, as Dr Eglantine asked me to call him. He reminded me that the course was not a tutorial, so first names were in order. I explained to him at the outset why I had not approached him directly, but had gone via Edward Bairstow, because of Luke's family connection. We didn't have to have any awkward discussions about my sexuality, as Professor Bairstow had already told him about that. Not that I was shy about my gayness, but it was not regarded as relevant to seeking Christ. "Remember, always, that the path of discipleship is not an easy one," he said. "When you are a Christian, your first instinct has to be pleasing God, not pleasing yourself. You have to re-orientate most of your basic instincts." The first session set the pattern for all our meetings. After a minute or so of silence to gather our thoughts together, Francis would say a collect from the Prayer Book. Then he would pour us a glass of Port or Madeira before beginning our evening's work. He did not start the course with the Bible, or history, he started by teaching me the physical exercises that are supposed to facilitate openness to God, involving stretching and relaxing various muscles, and spells of breathing deeply. After a complete session of this type, which was not exactly intellectually demanding in any way, we did start to learn about the Bible. Later we went on to church history, then to doctrine, and sacraments, then to what is characteristic and special about Anglicanism. We also had sessions about spirituality and our approach to God, how to pray and how to read scripture, both privately and publicly. He said that I must go on the list of scripture readers for morning prayer in chapel during term. I was surprised both at his enthusiasm and also on the amount of time that Francis was prepared to devote to my training. He was neither a typical parish priest, nor a typical Camford don. He was not forthcoming either about his personal sexuality, but obviously in a college like Buckingham he could not be anti-gay. When Luke got back, he invited the two of us to dine with him in a pub, and we had a very enjoyable evening. We broached with him the possibility of a blessing service when we had become civil partners. He said he would have no problems with such a service, but that it might not be possible to hold it in the college chapel, as it would have to be a private service. We said that was no problem, that we had a suitable room available at Rockwell's Barn: David's prayer room, where Luke's parents had had just such an act of worship more than twenty years before. Chapter Thirteen Italian and driving lessons The visit of David's nephew and niece was my first experience with young children. Admittedly I did have several nephews and nieces of my own, but I had not seen any of them for years. At Rockwell's Barn, the rule was that English was totally banned for conversation. If I was not present, the conversation was to be in Italian. If I was there, it was to be in French. I had done French to GCSE level, and had had a small amount of practice in Nice, but chiefly limited to ordering drinks and paying bus fares! So much of the time I was struggling with my schoolboy French! However, I did sit in on the Italian grammar lessons in the afternoons and with that, plus listening carefully to the children's conversation with Jon and David, I began to pick up words and make out what was being said. Andrew and Maria however rapidly picked up a lot of Italian, though it was a struggle for Jon to get them to speak grammatically. The key item in all language learning is memorizing of a lot of words and young children have much better memories. I found that small as it was, Ixton had a driving school, so I signed on for driving lessons, initially in the country roads round Ixton, and later, in order to experience traffic lights, in the streets of Ixfordingworth. I have to admit that my driving skills progressed much more rapidly than my Italian skills. My driving lessons would continue in my spare time when I was working in Camford. I had to pay extra per lesson for my instructor to drive into Camford for my lessons, but it was worth it, because he was a good teacher, and I was able to get practice under the sometimes nightmarish traffic conditions of the congested university city. Even when I had passed the test, I had no inclination to get a car, as garaging was difficult in Camford. David had set the whole month free from singing engagements, and he was able to sit in with me when I was practising my driving. I easily passed the written test, and had arranged for my practical driving test to take place in mid-September. The test would take place in Ixfordingworth rather than Camford. Luke was due back home at the end of July, just over eleven months since he had left for Bologna. By then I had just started work at the Fitness Centre, and was awaiting my exam results, which were due early in August. He came on a flight to Bristol, and supervised by David, as it was my day off work, I drove to Lulsgate airport to meet him, since he had a lot of luggage. That was my first long drive. However, I refused to drive back to Ixton and let Jon take the wheel. I said that Luke was too precious a cargo to be driven by someone who had not yet passed the driving test! After the earthquake incident, I was becoming obsessively protective. Luke left most of his luggage in the car for David to take to Ixton, but David was not surprised when Luke said that he wanted to spend his first night back with me! As I had to start work at 8 am, there was no question of us going to Rockwell's Barn. David dropped us at Fountain Street and went straight back to Ixton. It was now 6 pm, so we went immediately for a meal at the Sparrowhawk, so as to leave plenty of time for lovemaking in the evening. We only had some beer with our meal and after a small ice-cream dessert, returned to the flat without having coffee. No sooner were we inside than we began to tear each other's clothes off. We left them in a heap on the bedroom floor and before he knew it, my face was embedded in Luke's arse-crack, my hands on each of his buttocks. I kissed and nuzzled and chewed, and in spite of the sweat, the fragrance of Storing pour Homme lingered round his crotch. I moved my lips all over the delightful curves of his arse-cheeks, savouring the delights that I had missed for the last three months. At the same time, my right hand fingered his cock, gently but firmly stirring it to full male vigour. "My darling Luke, it's so good to have you back with me. You never seem mine when I can't get my hands on you every day!" "I've missed you too, Tom," he said, "all the time I was in Italy, I never had profound male company. It's so good to be back with you! Please fuck me hard." "Not so fast!" I replied, "I want to enjoy your body slo-o-o-o-wly." I spent a lot of time kissing him. I tried to kiss every square centimetre of his body, which was of course over-ambitious, but I still covered a fair bit of ground. The feeling of his warm, firm muscles against my lips was intoxicating. I silently thanked God again for giving him back to me. I turned him over to lie on his back and he smiled at me happily, so I transferred my attention to his lips and his hairy face. Although his beard was silky-soft, I was still not sure that I liked it, but decided to wait a few days and see if I got used to it and to try and find out how Luke felt about it. But once his mouth was open and we got to work with our tongues, I forgot about the hair. He put his arms round my shoulders and trapped me on top of him. After some minutes of mouth-to-mouth-kissing, he released me and I began to move my lips down the front of his body. Starting under his beard, I moved slowly towards his nipples. When I reached each one, I licked and nibbled it gently and Luke wriggled with pleasure. I continued downward and reached his belly-button. I spent some time nuzzling and nibbling his navel before slowly following his treasure-trail down to his pubic hair. I then continued round the base of his towering dick, by now sticking up in full stiffness, twenty centimetres of delicious hard veiny, lumpy sweetness. I started licking and sucking the hair on his balls before moving my lips slowly up the side of his shaft, now freely oozing precome. Luke gave sweet grunts of enjoyment from time to time and I found myself full of happiness at his sighs of love and contentment. My feelings towards God had now changed to gratitude that He had made me such a precious gift, and at the back of my mind a sense of unworthiness was apparent, that I did not really deserve this beautiful, talented, sweet and generous boy. I hastily took the head of his cock into my mouth and began to play with his foreskin with my lips and tongue. He gurgled in delight. "Oh, Tom," he said "I've been waiting weeks for this. You are the king of lovemakers, you make me feel so content and secure. You are the best thing that has ever come into my life!" As I felt exactly the same about him, that made me really happy, and it was with renewed enthusiasm that I resumed work on his tool. The organ in question is much bigger than my own, but I had no problems in spanning it. However, I never felt the need to deep-throat him, because I would not have been able to manage all of him. In any case, the front part was the most tasty. After a few more minutes of nibbling and chewing, my boy came violently and filled my mouth with a huge quantity of fuck-juice. I struggled to ingest it all, but it was so enjoyable to feel the sweet man-juice in my mouth. With some of it fresh on my lips, I resumed kissing his face. I lay beside him for a couple of minutes before I said, "It's time to bum you. I feel in a doggy mood, can you get off the bed and bend over?" Luke did as I asked and even pulled his arse-cheeks apart to reveal his mouthwatering man-hole. I gently pushed my lube-coated fingers in and then rolled a condom onto my tool. By now I was drooling with lust, the sight of that opening nearly drove me crazy! "Stand by for entry!" I giggled and gently pushed my rock-hard tool into that inviting entrance. "Push harder!" he said, "drill a hole in me. I want you inside me! I want you to squirt your genes into me, even if they end up in the rubber! Oh, Tom, master-bugger, I love you so much!" I did exactly as he asked, I rammed my dick as deeply as I could, through his sphincter and deep into his gut. Movement, once I was in him, was smooth and easy and there followed quite a few minutes of bliss as I fucked him steadily and increasingly faster. He muttered grunts of pleasure, interspersed with squeals of delight when I hit his prostate. Eventually of course the ultimate male pleasure, ejaculation, racked my whole body. I clasped him round the belly after I had come and lay behind him squeezing myself against his bent body, until I felt my erection rapidly subsiding, and at the same time I released an enormous fart that had built up during my exertions! I picked Luke up, dumped him on the bed, pulled the rubber from my tool, knotted it and collapsed beside him on the bed. I reached out to hold his hand and told him yet again how much I loved him. "If you'd been with me when the earthquake happened, you would have rescued me!" he whispered. "Don't talk rubbish, my sweet boy!" I said, "We can't live in each other's pockets. I can't even have lunch with you tomorrow, my shift doesn't finish until 4 pm. But we'll go to the Venezia tomorrow night at my expense. The nice Italian waiters are missing you!" "I bet that several of them are gay!" Luke said. I got up and made coffee for us. During Luke's absence, I had finally learnt how to use his coffee machine! "What I'm looking forward to, apart of course from giving you a good fuck," said Luke, "is someone to talk to in bed. Oh, and the silk sheets, of course!" Chapter Fourteen Summer activities I was working on the day that the exam results came out, so I sent my lover to the exam schools to see my results, and make sure that I had passed! I E-mailed Colin Vaughan and made an appointment to see him to get some unofficial indication as to how I had performed, and to discuss my laboratory project options for the following year. He told me that my performance was as good as the college expected from a Scholar, which in Camford parlance, as explained to me by Jon, meant that I had done well. It was arranged that I would work on the synthesis of some new materials with bioactive properties, that might be of great biological or medical application, under the supervision of a friend of Colin's, Dr Mills. For the next academic year, I had arranged for us to get back the en-suite college room that we had had in our second year. It was bliss to have Luke back in bed with me. We had the flat at Fountain Street to ourselves for the first time. David was off on his final tour of summer musical festivals, and Jon had gone with him. Cathy was at Ixton, travelling by bus or bike, depending on the weather, each day to a summer job in Ixfordingworth. Some weekends when I was not working, we joined her for two days, and I did the cooking, or we went out to the Jellycotes Arms. In mid-August, the two of us and Jon took the train to London to see Tim Ingledown by appointment to sign our wills. In order to cover the fact that we both had some significant wealth, yet to avoid making wills that would be nullified when we became civil partners, our wills were drawn up in anticipation of civil partnership, which meant that the provisions would hold even if we had not tied the knot at time of the death of one or both of us. They were not mirror wills, because Luke had far greater wealth to protect and manage than I had. My will provided that in the event of my death, all my estate would be divided among any children that we might have, either by surrogacy or adoption. Failing children, my estate was to go entirely to my sister Liz, unless Luke had predeceased me, in which case she would get 15% of my estate, and half the rest would go to Cathy or her children, and the remainder would be divided equally between the Afforestation Trust, the drystone wall trust and Buckingham College. Luke's will was much more complicated. In event of his death, half of his estate was to go to me, the rest to any children that we might have, either by adoption or surrogacy. If we had no children, that half of the estate would go to Cathy or her children, and the rest divided equally between the three charities that I have mentioned. We could not of course anticipate how our financial affairs would change in the event of the death of either or both of Luke's parents, and at that stage we would have to make new wills. After the earthquake incident, we were both relieved that our financial futures had been safeguarded, and the messy pitfalls of intestacy avoided. Without wills, my family would have a claim on my money and so would not only Luke's parents and sister, but also Dorothea and her family have a claim on his. Tim told us that a job offer had been made to Mr Silverdale by the Afforestation Trust, which if he proved satisfactory, would lead to him becoming Administrator of the Trust, a new post that Robin Banks had turned down, because he preferred hands-on work in the field to an office job. At the beginning of September, I finished my job at the Fitness Centre, and we needed a holiday. Rather than go abroad, we opted to go and stay with David's grandparents in Loxton. They were extremely glad to see us, because two of their children were now resident abroad, and my grandfather was looking forward to his forthcoming retirement, when they would be able to spend more time abroad and visit their offspring. They had not seen their daughter, David's sister (and of course Luke's mother), in the twenty-five years since she went to Italy. We borrowed the saloon car that was the second vehicle belonging to David's fathers to drive to the North, and I was able to get more practice in longer-distance driving with Luke as supervisor. In fact we took it in turns to drive the 300 km or so to Loxton. On the way, we stopped off to visit three of Jon's woodlands, one in Derbyshire and two in Lincolnshire, and stayed in a couple of hotels on the way. We walked through all of the woodlands and checked up on their state, noting jobs that needed to be done. All three woodlands were in a pretty good state, and had got very well established in the twenty years or so that they had been growing. It was Jon's principle that public access to the woodlands should be available in the summer, but that the woods should remain closed over the winter until the trees were well enough established to allow permanent access. Most of these woodlands did not have resident wardens: a warden from the Afforestation Trust would visit each site about once a month. Jon still tried to visit some sites each year, but was limited to the summer months, and this year, as he was touring with David, he had asked us to do some visits for him.