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Tommy's Third Year at College Pt. 01

By: WittePiet



Tommy's Third Year at College

[In this part of the story, Tommy and Martin take over the narration.]

Chapter 52 Martin: Alone in Camford

When I had returned with David Singleton-Scarborough from Bristol airport feeling sad that I would not see my darling fag-boy for at least ten weeks, he said to me, "Martin, I know exactly how you feel! Saying goodbye to the man you love is a wrench that I had many times per year during my stage career. Moreover, it was not just Jon that I had to say goodbye to, but our children as well. When I was touring, he and I slept together less than 50% of the nights in a year."

These were the first words I thought of the next morning as I sat doing my morning business on the toilet. I knew that not only would I not see Tommy for weeks, we had agreed not to use modern technology to communicate. No Skype or FaceTime, we had agreed. Just three E-mails and one phone sex session per week. I sighed as the last turd fell out of my hole and I reached for the toilet paper. That hole would not be getting a visitor for quite a while. My morning toilet session would now be a solitary one. In the flat, Tommy and I had always used the bathroom together in a morning, one doing his business while the other shaved, followed by us showering together.

I moved over to the bidet and began to wash my anus. The bidet was a luxury that I would have to give up in two weeks time when I was back in college. The small en-suite bathrooms in college rooms had no space for more than the minimum toilet, washbasin and shower. The towel-rail was on the back of the door, as was the toilet-roll holder.

Jon and David had very kindly invited me to stay at Octavia Avenue during the vacations (for a reasonable rent), and I got quite a bit of reading done during the next two weeks. October found me back in college and lectures and tutorials began. Lunch was often a solitary occasion, though in the evenings I ate with David and Jon about once a week. College dinner was no problem. I had several friends in Sanguis with whom I could sit to eat. I joined the Camford University Opera Club, which once a year gave four performances of an opera. Although I am no great singer, I can read music and my voice was good enough to get me a place in the chorus. That year they were presenting an ambitious production of Mozart's Die Entfürung aus den Serail, and one night a week was spent in rehearsal.

I had had several E-mails from Tommy. He had found an apartment to live in. It was shared with two other male students. There was no provision for real cooking—not that he was much good at cooking—so he had to take his lunch and evening meal in a student restaurant, of which there were several. Fortunately, the food was of reasonable quality. Often he and his flatmates would go out together to eat. He had a bedroom/study with its own en-suite bathroom, and there was a shared social room in the apartment. Both the other students were Italian. Tommy had been anxious not to share with other international students, or he would have ended up speaking English. 

He had signed up for several useful lecture courses and found life in Padua very pleasant. After a week or so, when he had got to know his flatmates, he revealed that he was gay. This rather startled me. My impression of Tommy had always been that he was shy and introvert. And here he was, out and proud! To his amazement, one of the other boys said that he too was gay. Although Tommy had made clear that he was in a committed relationship, the two agreed to go out together, and made regular trips to the cinema. The gay guy, whose name was Matteo, told Tommy that he was glad to have another gay in the house, because Leo, the third flatmate, had always teased him for being gay. "You'll be glad to know that I don't find him particularly attractive! We are good mates, but I don't really consider him bedworthy!" Tommy wrote.

One of the first things that I did when term began was to contact Ken MacAlpin to arrange to go for a swim and to ask him if he had heard from Adam Williams of Buckingham. He said that he had and that they had met in the Randy Soldier. Adam liked classical music and said that he would come to Ken's next concert. He was not keen on swimming however. I told Ken that I too would be at the next concert and would like to meet Adam.

Chapter 53 Exchange of E-mails

From: m.robinson@xxxx.ffff.ac.uk to: t.a.singleborough@yyyy.ffff.ac.uk

My darling Tommy

How are you? I'm working hard, but lusting mightily for your arse. I don't feel lonely during the day, but when I'm lying in my narrow college bed I long to feel you beside me, or beneath me, or even on top of me! I desperately want to run my hands over your delicious arse-cheeks and to kiss your sweet chest. 

You'll be glad to know that Adam Williams and Ken have met one another and the three of us will be going to Ken's next concert. I spend more time in college now than I did last year, but that's partly because I have a room to go to!

My sweet boy, if you feel like sex and desperately need it, I don't mind, providing that you tell me about it and don't make it a regular habit. Similarly if either Adam or Ken wants a BJ, and I oblige, I will tell you about it. But one rule for both of us: NO ANAL. Let me know if you are happy with this. I won't do anything that you don't want me to do. I'll even stay sex-starved if you insist!

My father is very happy with his new bride. He must have been very sex-starved for years. I hope he is enjoying having a cunt at his disposal without any menstrual mood-swings! They say that women only begin to enjoy sex after the menopause. I don't know if that's true, and I'm not interested in finding out. Besides, it's none of my business. Children should not pry into their parents' sex lives.

Please write to me soon. I love you.

Martin

From: t.a.singleborough@yyyy.ffff.ac.uk to m.robinson@xxxx.ffff.ac.uk

Hi, stud-boy

I miss you. I miss seeing your red hair next to me when I wake up in the morning. I miss your company and I miss your cock.

However, I am steadily get acclimatized to the Italian student way of life. There is decent beer to be had in Padua if you know where to look. The micro brewery movement is well established here, and there are some very good craft beers being brewed. Not that I don't drink wine, I hasten to add. 

I have decided to go to Trabizona for the weekend once a month, not just to see Luke, Tom and Olivia, but to see my little nephew, who has just said his first word. It was "No!" We speak no English when I'm there. However that will change when Giovanni learns to talk, because they want to bring him up bilingually. My sweet sister seems very glad to see me, and it's a break from the student environment. 

Every couple of months I go to see my aunt and uncle, where I do speak English, as auntie Dorothea likes to speak her native language sometimes, though I always speak Italian to zio Massimo. I go to the English church regularly, and it's the only other time that I speak English. There are Anglican church services in Padua, but we only get a proper eucharist once a month when a priest comes from Rome. There are services taken by Readers though, on other Sundays. 

My social life is a bit restricted. I go to the cinema with Matteo once per week, and I have to admit that we hold hands together. But he's a really touchy-feely sort of person, and holding hands is not a sign of intimacy. He has shown me the most important sites and landmarks in Padua, like the Orto Botanico and the Prato della Valle. He is very sweet person and it is a pleasure to go out with him. We often eat together. At the moment I do not feel any urgent need for sex, but of course he might decide that he wants it. If he does, it will be on my terms, and I will tell you about it! I don't want you to get jealous, because you know how dependent I am on your love. But if you need a suck, or even a rim, feel free to go ahead on the terms that you mentioned. 

There are also a few occasional social activities at the English church. I really enjoy my visits to Trabizona, but I don't want to spend a lot of time there. Olivia is expecting another baby in June, so I don't like to impose on them too much. I must confess that I keep a big picture of you beside my bed, and think about your sweet body every time I jack off. Moreover, I really love our phone sex sessions. I always go to bed early on the nights that we're going to talk.

Please write again soon.

Love, Tommy.

Chapter 54 Tommy: Autumn in Padova

I was really enjoying Padova. It was a beautiful and historic city. My self-confidence in speaking Italian had increased spectacularly in the first month, and I was busy each night writing down the new words that I had learnt in a notebook. This caused some amusement to my two housemates. They were very helpful in increasing my vocabulary of dirty words! We used to go drinking together one night per week, but I refused to go to any night-clubs. 

Occasionally Matteo and I would go to a gay bar, and sometimes Leo came with us. Italian men of our age group seem to have no prejudice against gays. They seem to consider that gays reduce the competition for available women! Though not an enthusiastic dancer, I did dance a few times with Matteo who is a good dancer.

The university lectures were very good, although the number of students present was enormous, because they were mainly first-year lectures. The failure/dropout rate at the end of the first year is high. The few second year lectures I went to had much smaller attendances.

Most weekends I did not see much of my flatmates because I had been persuaded into singing in the choir at the English church, and the choir-practice was before the service. Sometimes too, I was invited to Sunday lunch by a member of the congregation. I always offered to pay my share, stressing that I was not a penniless student. My hosts always assumed that I was homesick, which is far from the truth. How could I be when I had a brother only a short distance away? 

The only person that I missed was Martin. It was always good to see Luke, Tom and Olivia and to hear the steadily increasing vocabulary of little Giovanni. As his vocabulary developed, Luke insisted that I only talked to Giovanni in English, as part of their policy to teach him that Italian visitors spoke Italian and British visitors spoke English. Olivia got steadily bigger on each of my visits, and Tom still seemed deliriously happy that he had fathered a baby. They had opted not to be told the sex of the coming child.

Chapter 55 Exchange of phone calls

From Martin to Tommy

Martin: Hi, my sweet fag-boy, I'm desperately missing you. I hope you don't mind that the other night I had a threesome with Adam and Ken. We went to Ken's flat in Julian Street, and had a few glasses of beer. Adam said that he needed someone to give him a BJ, to which Ken and I replied that we would only co-operate if he got completely undressed. "I'm not sucking someone who's just dropped his pants!" said Ken, "I need to see everything that he has, front and back, above and below the waist."

"In return, we will both get undressed as well!" I added, "and the other one will watch and wank. Whom do you want to suck you first?" Adam chose Ken. Of course I knew what Ken's lower body was like from our previous experience, and I knew his propensity to fart at unexpected moments, so I was interested to see how Adam would react.

Tommy: And how did he react?

Martin: He asked us to undress him! So Ken took his shirt off and I removed his shoes and socks. Then Ken undid his belt and unzipped his fly. He said, "That's a nice big dick that I can feel sticking up inside your underpants. And look, Martin, there's a big damp patch on his underpants." Ken promptly bent down and kissed the wet patch, before he got hold of the waistband and pulled Adam's underpants down. They were orange cotton and very sexily cut, and suited Adam's slim figure. As he pulled them over Adam's rock-hard tool, we could see the precome flowing abundantly from Adam's piss-slit. 

Ken and I then hastily removed our own clothes. Ken's taste in underpants was quite different from Adam's. He wore a pair of striped boxers that looked more like a swimming costume than underwear. Luckily the heating in Ken's flat is good, so we were quite warm enough prancing around in the nude. We all moved together and put our arms round each other's waists, making a circle of three, our cocks sticking up in front of each of us and dripping with precome. 

Ken had the biggest tool, with mine second and Adam a good 2 cm shorter. We each ran our hands over the arses of the men next to us. Ken's was very hairy, Adam's very smooth. In fact, I wondered if he shaved it or waxed it. Then we let go of one another and Ken knelt and began to lick Adam's balls, with one hand on each of Adam's buttocks. It was clear that he was hungry for sex. The way that his mouth attacked Adam's manhood shrieked sexual need. We knew from our experience the previous term that Ken gave a good blow-job. Adam certainly seemed to be enjoying it. 

I found it interesting to watch how two men who are a lot more sexually experienced than you and I are went at one another. I learnt quite a lot from watching their technique of giving and receiving head. As I watched, I was of course fingering my cock and what I saw excited me so much that long before either of the others reached a climax, I came violently and shot my seed in a big puddle over Ken's polished laminate floor. Adam grinned and said, "You'd better wipe that up! This guy is such an expert that he's keeping me just back from the edge. I'm beginning to wonder if he doesn't actually want a mouthful of spunk!" No sooner had he said that than Ken opened his mouth wider and tried to swallow Adam's dick. 

Tommy, I can really recommend watching men having it off together. It's ten times better than a porn movie! Adam immediately began to push and to breathe deeply and ten seconds later he exploded into Ken's mouth.

Tommy: I've got my cock in my right hand, and it's already oozing precome! What happened next?

Martin: That's the best bit! Ken rocked backwards on his knees as he tried to swallow Adam's massive load of man-juice and an enormous fart escaped from his rear end. Adam burst out laughing and began to kiss Ken's hair. "So, the treasure house is full of wind!" he remarked. "I hope that I don't get the same reaction from Martin!" Of course by now I was getting hard again, as it was my turn to suck Adam off. 

He had a very big loose foreskin, so that when his cock was at rest it completely covered the head and provided a sort of channel for his piss. I asked if I could watch him pissing, and he said "Why not?" so Ken and I followed him to the toilet. We had consumed quite a lot of beer, so it was a big piss, and he directed it into the water so that it made a noise like Niagara Falls, punctuated a couple of times by farts. That was enough to harden my cock and restart the flow of precome. As he was shaking his tool to remove any urine trapped under his foreskin, I went up to him and put my arm round his waist. 

I kissed him on the lips and dragged him back into the sitting room, where I knelt and opened my mouth and let Adam push his cock in. As Ken had done, I cupped my two hands over his arse-cheeks and began to nibble his partially rolled-back foreskin. "That's nice!" he exclaimed. Any taste of urine had been washed away by Adam's precome.

Tommy: (breathing heavily) I'm gonna come! I wish that I'd been there to watch you all. (Loud grunt as he shoots his load). Good job I had tissues ready!

Martin: Just think, if we hadn't agreed not to use FaceTime, I could be watching you squirt right now! Anyway, in spite of my mouth being very busy, out of the corner of my eye I could watch Ken stroking his tool. He would pull his foreskin back and then push it forward, and this gave his cock an enormous stimulus. I worked on Adam's meat with my tongue and jaws. I noticed as I licked his balls that he used the gay perfume Storing pour Homme. His arse was delicious, I couldn't take my hands off his buttocks. 

Eventually he muttered that he was going to come and shot his load into my mouth. I have to admit that it didn't taste like anything special. No 'food of the gods' or anything like that, just plain ordinary jism.

To my regret, I must finish this call. I've got three chapters of a book on Roman archaeology to finish before I go to bed, where I will play with my cock and think of you! I'm glad that our chat gave you a good wank.

Goodnight, my darling boy.

From Tommy to Martin, some days later

Hello stud-boy!

I wish you were here. I need your sweet lips pressed to mine. I want to nibble your nipples, lick your balls and kiss your lovely arse. I want to push my tongue into the crack between the delicious curves of your butt. In short, I want to ravish you!

There have been a few developments with Matteo. It seems that he was dating another boy, whom he rather fancied, but that this guy has now taken up with someone else and he is rather fed up. I told him that I was not available to start a relationship, but because I like him I said that I was not averse to friendship with a small amount of occasional sex when one or other of us needed a change from jacking off. He told me that he would think about it. 

I haven't yet spelt out any further details, so we will see what happens. I will of course tell you all about it. It will be very much kiss and tell as far as I am concerned! Although we've seen films together, I don't know what he's studying, nor do I know if he likes opera. I will have to find out more about him.

Martin: As long as you tell me all about it, I promise not to be jealous. We are at an age when, in spite of all the other things we need to do, we need frequent sex, even if its only a quick BJ or a furtive wank. Maybe young males produce more spunk than older men, do you think? Certainly I need a daily porn fix with my iPad and a good play with my tool. When I think of all that nutritionally valuable nitrogen and phosphorus of DNA going to waste when it could be feeding you, I think of the prodigality of nature. You know, you're the only person in the world that I can tell that to!

Tommy: I just wish that you didn't need porn or wanking. If I were there, I would soon fix you! There mere thought of your wide-open legs gives me a massive hard-on! Say something to relieve me!

Martin: I would make you bend forward over a chair and open up your hole. Then I would push my slimy cock up your arsehole and fuck you bareback for hours on end. While I was buggering you, I would play with your cock until you came all over my fingers. I would then wipe the spunk off my hands on your chest and belly and shoot my load into your gut. As my cock slipped out of your hole, I would make you stay bent over until you farted and my man-juice began to ooze of your hole. I would then wipe it up with a tissue and lick up any remaining. Then I would smother your arse-cheeks with kisses. I don't think I've ever told you how much I love it when you fart. Just hearing it sounds to me like a love-call inviting me to fuck you!

Tommy: You DIRTY bugger! You have an anal obsession! When I get home you'd better try sucking me when I'm having a shit. The stink would remind you that the anus is for shitting as well as fucking. Anyway, I'm now oozing precome. It just needs you to say the right thing and I will shoot.

Martin: I love your tight, tight hole. It grips the sides of my tool in a way that no cunt could achieve. I really need to work hard to get into your gut. Just shut your eyes and imagine that my cock is pushing its way into your back passage. It's now inside and it's about to hit your prostate. BANG! It's hit its target, and it's about to explode and fill your gut with my come! But before I come, I'm bending forward and nibbling your left nipple. Just get hold of the hair round your nipple and play with it gently. I'm now speeding up for my climax. You're mine Tommy, all mine!


Tommy's Third Year at College Pt. 01



(A yell from Tommy as he comes.) 

Tommy (breathlessly): Oh, Martin, that was fantastic. Thank you!

Martin: Glad to oblige my fag-boy! Tommy, I must stop now and get on with some work. I'm counting the days till I see you again. Goodbye, sweet boy.

Tommy: Goodbye darling Martin.

Chapter 56 Tommy: A weekend in Trabizona

In mid-November, I visited my brother Luke and his partner Tom in Trabizona. Luke said to me, "I'm not very good at presents, Tommy, but to try and make you feel at home in Italy, I've bought you a student ticket for the Teatro Musicale here. You can use it for any performance for which there are any seats available and you only pay 20% of the standard ticket price. I know that you don't need a discount, you've plenty of cash, but it's an incentive to come regularly to the opera here, and you can always stay with us. Both Olivia and Costanza have become very fond of you, and if our guest room is occupied, you can always sleep on the sofa. We would provide a sleeping bag! Moreover, should you wish to bring a friend, he or she could have a trial ticket, which gives an 80% discount for one single performance on production of a student ID." 

I was delighted by this. I was slowly catching Martin's enthusiasm for opera, and I always enjoyed the Desperaldi family life. Olivia's confinement was only three months away and the rate of growth of her bump had slowed down somewhat. Pregnancy suited her, she seemed livelier and more outgoing with a baby in her belly. 

Giovanni used to sit on my knee and chatter away in fragmented Italian or English. "Mamma aspetta bambino" (Mum's expecting a baby) he would say. I would always reply in English, as instructed by his fathers, even though he was clearly not keen to speak it. "Yes," I would say, "Would you like the baby to be a boy or a girl? Can you think of a name for him or her?" But young though I was, I got quite envious of Luke and Tom, not for their careers, but for their fatherhood. 

Because Luke was so much older than me, I had never really thought of him as an older brother, because he had left home before Jon and David adopted me. When I told Luke how I envied his family life, he said, "Tommy, make the most of your freedom and independence while you can. All you have to worry about is study and exams. Forget about relationships and fatherhood while you can! Your freedom will last no longer than your Final Honour Schools." [the Camford name for final exams]. "I'm not suggesting that you spend the next two years in drinking and whoring, but you have other priorities than fatherhood just at the moment."

Chapter 57 Tommy: Back home for the Christmas vacation

The term in Padova finished in mid-December, and long before that I had bought my flight ticket back home to Gatwick airport. Looking back on my first term, I realized how much I had learnt. My Italian was now confident and completely grammatical. Although I had learnt a lot from my lectures, I had also learnt to find my way around the city, to know much more about the public transport and Italian geography and got to know my brother, brother and sister-in-law much better and developed a fairly healthy friendship with Matteo. 

The day after term ended, I said goodbye to my housemates and took the train to Marco-Polo-Venezia airport. It was with some contentment as well as sexual lust that I stepped on to the plane, and it required some considerable effort to avoid jerking myself off in anticipation in the plane's toilet! At the Sussex airport, laden with backpack and suitcase, I followed the signs to the railway station where I bought a ticket to Camford and climbed aboard the Thameslink train. The train was a stopping train and it took several hours through and underneath the city of London to reach the midland university city of my birth.

In Camford, I had no sooner got the train door open, than my suitcase was grabbed from me and as I climbed onto the platform, I was grabbed by Martin's strong arms and kissed, briefly but passionately. He pulled me into a corner of the platform out of sight of most passengers and caught in his stranglehold, I was submitted to violent kisses and groping of my crotch. 

"Tommy! I've missed you!" said my boyfriend, "But I guess we must get a move on. I've got a cab waiting." We rode in the cab to Octavia Avenue. Both my fathers were out. We dumped my baggage in the hall and Martin more or less dragged me upstairs to our bedroom, where, having locked the door, he began to tear my clothes off. He got quite rough.

"Watch out!" I said "Those are Italian designer trousers that you're pulling down!"

"I want you! Everything's ready by the bed for a fuck session," he said and started to smother my arse with kisses. It was wonderful. I felt in the mood to be dominated!

"I want to feel your skin," I said, "I don't want to be fucked by a half-clad man!" He slowed down and I started to undress him. Getting his jeans and underpants off was a great hassle. The trousers came off relatively easily, but his briefs, already soaking in precome, seemed to get tangled with his huge, slimy rock-hard tool. The next minute he was kissing my belly and nibbling my nipples, which got rock-hard the minute his mouth touched them. 

I put both my hands into the small of his back and then slid them down to cup them over each of his buttocks. Just to feel him up against my body was intoxicating. 'To think that I've missed this for weeks!' I thought, revelling in warmth and passion in his body. 

He pushed me onto the bed and lay on top of me, still kissing my tits and belly-button. I could feel his sweet breath across my midriff. I spread my legs to give him unobstructed access to my genitals after putting a pillow under the small of my back to lift my anus off the bed. Without a lot of foreplay, he poked his gel-covered fingers into my hole, adding them one at a time as he stretched me, my hole having stiffened up from lack of entry for the past few months.

His cock was just a comfortable size and he entered my arsehole gently, but pushed persistently, and I began to get a nice 'full' feeling in my gut. He began fucking movements, slowly at first, but increasing in speed until he was really ramming me. I loved it. I felt wanted and possessed as he slammed into me with his berubbered tool. 

"You're mine, all mine!" he whispered as he did what a man must do. I felt the object inside me get bigger and hotter as he shot his load. By now he had started to sweat, and his sweet perspiration trickled down the upper part of his body and dripped onto my belly. By this time, I was totally lost in passion and lust, and within a few seconds as Martin's sweat hit me, I came violently without my tool coming into contact with anything and drenched the pair of us in come. 

Martin leant forward and began to kiss me and stroke my shoulders. As the blood receded from his tool, it went limp and slipped out of me with a slight plopping sound. I pulled him down on top of me and caressed his arse and the small of his back. It all felt silky smooth, and the sensation of being so close to him sent my dick rock-hard yet again. I rubbed it against his come-covered belly until I realized that the condom was coming loose from his soft cock. 

He rolled off me, dealt with the prophylactic and then put his mouth round my dick. He chewed my foreskin briefly, before I began to fuck his mouth. It only took a couple of minutes to make me shoot yet again. I fired three shots and filled Martin's mouth. "I love you, my own stud-boy!" I said as he struggled to swallow my huge ejaculate.

We lay together in exhaustion for ten minutes, before we began to talk as we lay there, one of our arms round the other guy.

"Are you going home to Sheffield for Christmas?" I asked him.

"No," he replied, "my father and stepmother are going to Madeira."

"Right, then you must come to Rockwell's Barn again."

"There's just one thing," Martin replied. "Ken will be in Camford for Christmas. Being Scottish, his parents prefer him to come home for New Year. They are old-fashioned Scots, and don't make much of Christmas."

"Then he must come and spend Christmas with us. We can pick him up on Christmas Eve, and take him back to Camford the day after Boxing Day when the Wilsonian reopens. You and I've got plenty of time for shagging before and after the festival. Two days abstinence will do us good! He might have to sleep on a camp bed in the pool room, but I don't suppose he will mind. He'll have the excellent pool toilet facilities all to himself!

However, we may not be able during the festive period to swim naked, or to indulge in sexual hanky-panky. There are too many women and elderly people in the house for that. My grandparents are pretty broadminded, but the festive period is not an appropriate time. My parents prefer to swim naked together without anyone else being present, so we'll come to an arrangement as to when you and I can swim together on our own. My parents have always been reticent about showing themselves naked to me in case some story got to Social Services and they got suspected of abusing their adopted son. They are more relaxed about it now, but they prefer to swim on their own, and they can have as much horseplay together as they like, and shag one another in the changing room if they feel like it. You still need sex even in your fifties, you know."

"We'll be eating shortly," said Martin. "So we'd better clean ourselves up. My coating of come is getting crisp and sticky. Let's hop into the shower. Jon is cooking tonight. Then I've arranged for us to go round and see Ken."

Chapter 57 Tommy: We visit Ken and the Lewis family

We walked from Octavia Avenue to Julian Street and rang the bell of Ken's apartment. Invited in, we went up the stairs to knock on Ken's door. He opened it and we gaped to see that he was stark naked. We entered and hastily closed the door. He gave me a kiss of greeting and groped my genitals through my trousers. 

"Get your clothes off!" he said, "The coffee will only be a couple of minutes." As I pulled my trousers and underpants down, I noticed Ken's cock visibly stiffening. "I bet you're really sex-starved," he said to me as he watched my own prick beginning to grow. Without further ado, he was on his knees and nibbling my foreskin prior to taking my manhood into his mouth. Martin looked on in amazement at the smile on my face. By now, he also had removed all his clothes.

"This is my second BJ of the evening!" I said, "but I've got big reserves of come after nearly three months of only occasional wanking."

"You're too young for abstinence," said Ken, momentarily removing his mouth from my cock. "Men of our age need daily release. A squirt a day keeps the shrink away!" He then proceeded to suck my dick. He did it very skilfully, concentrating on the head and foreskin, and using his tongue and lips with great skill. 

In spite of coming only a couple of hours before, it did not take long for me to realize that I was nearing the edge. But before I slipped over and shot my load, Ken removed my cock from his mouth and began to suck my balls, one at a time. Martin had never done that, nor of course had Carol. It was very enjoyable. Then he took my cock back into his mouth and I successfully fucked his mouth and again came on a massive scale.

As we drank coffee, I could not help noticing that Ken had lost weight. When asked, he said that he had started to run daily as well as swimming, and had started to avoid fast food. His incipient paunch had shrunk to a rounded belly. "When I look down, I can now see my cock!" he announced proudly. "Previously it was hidden by my overhanging belly!"

"That's from spending hours on end sitting on your arse in the Wilsonian!" said Martin. "I even think that your arse looks more muscular."

"How about a closer examination?" said Ken, "I like being rimmed! But maybe you ought to wait. I've got a fantastic new porn DVD!" He moved to the TV set and turned things on. "It's called The interracial Fuckathon." he told us. 

We settled down on Ken's sofa to watch, Ken sitting between us, holding our cocks in each hand. It was quite a long film. The plot involved four men, one from each racial group, who had a competition to see how many men each could fuck in 30 minutes. The assistants, that is the "fuckees", were a random selection of willing men from all racial groups, who were all labelled and lined up in the same order. Each bent over to display his arse, and the competitors could start from either end of the row. Each was allowed a minute to fit a condom on his tool for each fuck, and each had an assistant to collect and count the used condoms. 

The film lasted nearly three hours in total, but no man could watch more than a few minutes without getting a stiffie, and within half an hour we were all wanking furiously, panting and grunting as we each came.

"This is the kind of film of which you only watch for ten minutes per session!" said Martin. "I hope all the cast of that movie were well paid! It must be terrifically demanding. Not something that I would want to do."

"Yes. Do you know, I've never seen the end of the film, to see who wins! Thank you both for not squirting on the upholstery of my sofa!" said Ken.

"Ken, how would you like to spend Christmas with us at Ixton?" said Tommy. "You might have to sleep on a camp bed in the pool room, but the room is well heated and you would have good food and a convivial time, even without sex, and there are plenty of facilities in there for a good wank session if you needed it! We would bring you back here the day after Boxing Day, or San Stefano, as we call it in Italian."

"Oh, thank you very much, Tommy. It will be nice to meet your relations. The thought of spending Christmas in this flat on my own does not appeal, nor the idea of a takeaway Christmas dinner!

"Do you spend much time in college?" I asked.

"Not really. I dine there once a week, but I don't know many people there. I'm a Birmingham graduate."

A few days later, I said to Martin, "We're going out this afternoon. Last night I phoned my old foster parents, and we've been invited to call in there for afternoon tea."

We walked the couple of kilometres from Octavia Avenue to the road where Mr and Mrs Lewis lived. I knocked on the door of the house where I had spent nearly a year of my childhood awaiting the final decision of Camfordshire Social Services to let Jon and David adopt me. They had been loving carers for me during my early adolescence, and even after adoption, I spent the time after school with them until David and Jon got back from work, when one of them would come and collect me.

By now, all their foster-children had grown up and had left home. The youngest, about a year older than me, was at university, and the Lewises were enjoying a well-earned retirement. "Tommy! How nice to see you! It must be over a year since the last time we saw you. How are you?" said Mrs Lewis.

"Growing up rapidly!" I said with a grin. "May I introduce my boyfriend, Martin? Before you say anything, yes, I'm gay, or rather, bisexual. My fathers did everything to prevent me growing up gay, but it didn't work. Martin fell in love with me, and that was that. I abandoned my girlfriend for him!"

"I remember the Italian girl that you used to go out with. What was her name? Beatrice?"

"Yes, I think she must have realized early on, long before I did, that I batted for the other side. Certainly her grandmother did. Beatrice's at Islip, but we scarcely ever see one another now. But how are you two?"

"We're both very well. After years of foster-children, it's nice to have the house to ourselves, and to go on holiday whenever we like. We went to Florida last year. So Martin, how did you meet Tommy?"

"In a lecture on Etruscan civilization!" said Martin with a grin. "We were sitting next to one another and I took a fancy to him. At that time we were both studying classics, but Tommy has moved on to Italian."

"Just like your brother then!" said Mrs Lewis with a smile.

"Yes, I replied. "Actually I'm studying in Italy at the moment, in Padua, but I'm home for Christmas. Martin is on his own this academic year! But I'll be back in college next October for my final year. You know, I've never told you how much I love you both for the time that you looked after me. To you it may see only a short time in your lives, but what you and your children did for me then probably saved me from a breakdown later in my teens. I have never had the slightest desire to trace my birth parents. Who would want to meet a pair of psychopaths?

"My fathers have always been very good to me, but I'm beginning, since I met Martin, to realize that I have been overprotected. Still, when I went up to Boni's they did cut the apron strings. They told me at the beginning of the Martinmas term that they didn't want to see me till Christmas, and of course in the last few months in Padua, I've had to fend for myself."

"Yes, you told me yourself," said Martin "that your parents didn't tell you much about sex in case someone accused them to Social Services of child abuse!"

"Well, I'm over eighteen now, so Social Services now have no jurisdiction. Last year we moved out of our respective colleges and lived in a flat in St Saviour's Street, but this year Martin is back in college, and so will I be in October next."

We all sat down at the tea-table and Mrs Lewis began to pour the tea. After more than ten years, she still remembered that I liked milk in my tea but no sugar. Newly baked scones were passed round, and we began to split them and apply butter and jam.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" asked Mr Lewis.

"We're both going to Ixton, along with a friend who isn't going home for Christmas," said Martin. "Tommy's grandparents live there permanently now. Are your family coming home for the festival?"

"Three of them are, but the two eldest now have their own families and are staying at home. None of them live in Camford: they couldn't afford the house prices here."

This reminded me about how lucky my family was. We children never needed to get a mortgage to buy a house. Sandro and Luke had had their houses bought for them, although Cathy's husband Edmund had refused any financial assistance. He said that he made so much money that a mortgage was not a financial burden. But they got a large wedding present from our parents to buy furniture with.

We left the Lewises about 6 pm, and I promised that we would come again when I was back in Camford.

Chapter 59 An unexpected visit for Tom

One day in Trabizona in March, Tom Appleton received a phone call from his sister Liz. "Tom you know that Dad has been ill with lung cancer for the last couple of years. In spite of chemotherapy, it's now much worse, and Elaine his partner has arranged for him to move into a hospice, because he's not expected to live more than another six weeks or so. I'm paying for the hospice care. If you want to see him before he dies, you need to have a bag packed and be prepared to drop everything, and fly home, preferably to Newcastle, at a day's notice." 

She said that she had notified Daisy, Tracy, Lizzie and Josie (their four older sisters, whom Tom had not seen for years) and they all said that they wanted nothing to do with their father and would not come to the funeral when it happened unless he had left them some money. 

"You and I know how unlikely that is. Because Elaine has worked all her life and kept her personal money separate from his, and only spent about half her earnings on housekeeping and bills, she is financially secure, but if he turns out to have debts, it will be us, not her, who have to pick up the tab. He's never bothered to make a will. 




Tommy's Third Year at College Pt. 01



Elaine has enough earnings and savings to buy a one-up-and-one-down terrace house on a mortgage, so she will be able to manage. She won't get the tenancy of the council house, because they're not married. She has looked after him for several years now, and she really loves the old bastard. He was lucky in his old age to get someone as nice as her, we both know what whores and bitches his previous girlfriends were! How Elaine could love such a selfish idle bugger, who lived only for sex and cigarettes, I do not know!"

"Liz, when you let me know that the end is near, I'll have a bag packed and be with you as soon as I can get on a flight from Valerio-Catullo. I would like to make my peace with the old man before he snuffs it. I never hated him: it was those bitches he took up with after mother died who nearly destroyed my life. Only you and Mr Silverdale cared anything for me until I met my darling Luke. 

"I may not be able to stay very long, but I'll come back for the funeral and help you and Elaine clear the house out. We'll have to decide about the funeral arrangements. It will be nice to see your family. In a few years time we may be able to bring the bambini to see you. We're already bringing up Giovanni to be bilingual."

"Is Olivia keeping well? It's won't be that long before she gives birth."

"Yes, she's not experiencing any morning sickness. Pregnancy suits her."

"And fatherhood suits you! You seem happier, fitter and more relaxed than you have ever been since you left Camford."

"That's due to the love and support not just of my darling Luke, but my sweet Olivia, who has two loving men at her beck and call. She's a brilliant cook as well, so we have to be careful not to overeat! We're getting to the age now, especially Luke, when we need to be careful of our diet and make sure we get enough exercise." 

About a month later, Tom received a phone call from Liz to say that their father only had a couple of weeks to live and was expected to become comatose within a few days. Tom informed Arturo of what had happened and took a flight the next day from Valerio-Catullo-Villafranca to Newcastle-on-Tyne. 

The hospice where Tom's father was receiving his terminal care was in a country village near Durham City. Tom and Liz went there the following day. Their father was conscious and lucid.

"Who're you?" he asked when he saw Tom, not recognizing the sun-tanned hulk in his mid-thirties that Tom had become.

"I'm your son Tom!" Tom replied, not able to think of any other reply.

"Why haven't you been to see me before? I've only got a few weeks left to live!"

"Because I live in Italy, Dad, and I can't make regular visits. But I wanted to see you before you became unable to talk."

"Are you married?" his father asked.

"Yes, but to a man, because I'm queer. But like you, we have a live-in girlfriend, and she has given us two children, two grandchildren for you! The second one is due in a few months time, and I am its father. Luke and I are over the moon at the prospect of having two children."

"Elaine and Liz are the only ones to bother to come and see me since I got into this place," his father grumbled. "They won't let me smoke, and I'm only allowed one glass of beer a day! I hope you don't think that you'll get any money when I'm gone, because there isn't any. I've been living off handouts and what Elaine earns for years."

"Dad, I've got plenty of money. Luke's grandmother gave me a lot of money when he and I became partners, and I'm in a fairly well-paid job at Trabizona University."

"Don't give any to those greedy, lazy bitch sisters of yours, Tom. Liz, I don't include you in that. You've always been good to me. How's Aidan?"

"Sends his regards, Dad," replied Liz. 

After further chat and a cup of tea, Tom said to his father, "I'm sorry not to have seen you for such a long time Dad, but by the time that you took up with Elaine, I was in Italy, and both Luke and I were working our arses off in new jobs. And before that, those bitches that you lived with all hated me." He kissed his father and said, "Dad, I love you although we've not seen each other for years, and at least you now know that we have given you grandchildren." His father, for the first time that Tom could remember, actually smiled. 

"You're a good lad, Tom," he said, "just like your mother."

They made their farewells and left, Liz promising to return the following week. They then went for a brief call at Tom's old home, where he thanked Elaine for being so good to his father, and then Tom and Liz drove back to Newcastle. Aidan, home from work, welcomed them with the news that he had booked a table for them to dine out. They had a very enjoyable meal, and Aidan was amazed at how much his gay brother resembled his sister. The next day, Tom flew home, telling Liz that he would be back in time for the funeral.

Chapter 60 Tom's father's funeral

A month after Tom had seen his father, Liz rang to say that the inevitable had happened, that their father had died. Tom went to see Arturo and told him what had happened. Arturo said, "You are going to need a least a week, Tom, to sort things out at home. We'll postpone your lectures and Alberto can run your laboratory classes. Take as long as you need to get matters sorted out. Is Luca going to go with you?"

"No" said Tom. "He would have come if it had just been the funeral, but I'm obviously going to need time there, which he can't afford." The only thing that worried Tom was that Olivia's confinement was getting near. If the baby should arrive early he might miss it, and to be absent when his son or daughter came into the world would upset them all: Luke as well as himself and Olivia.

Two days later, Tom arrived at Liz's house in Newcastle. His father's body had been moved to the undertaker's and arrangements had been made for the cremation two days later. There would be a committal service in the crematorium chapel led by the local vicar. There was a wreath on the coffin from Liz and Aidan and a sheaf of white roses from Tom and Luke, but no other flowers. 

There were to be no spoken tributes, but Tom insisted on two hymns as well as the liturgical readings and prayers. One hymn was one of his favourites, John Newton's Amazing grace, in hope that God's grace really would posthumously redeem the old wastrel. Tom's 'performances' with Luke at Arturo's had made him less self-conscious about singing in public, which was just as well, because virtually no-one else joined in the hymns.

Only a few people attended the funeral: Elaine, Liz and Aidan, Tom and about half a dozen friends, acquaintances and neighbours. Tom's other sisters were not present. As those present left the chapel, Tom stood near the exit and invited them all to the local pub, where a buffet meal was provided. 

As they were munching quiche and sausage rolls, Tom circulated to see if there was anyone that he knew and to receive any condolences that might be forthcoming. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there were none. A middle-aged lady whom he recognized as one of his former teachers, a colleague of Tom's protector and friend, Bernard Silverdale, looked at him in puzzlement. "Are you related to Mr Appleton?" she asked. 

"I'm his son Tom," replied Tom. "You taught me at school," he continued. The woman looked at him in amazement and closely scrutinized the tall, well-built, clean-shaven, suntanned hulk, with his black silk tie and Armani suit.

"I remember you now," she said. "You were good at maths. It must be more than twenty years ago. What are you doing now?"

"I work in Italy. I'm a senior lecturer in chemistry at the University of Trabizona. I went there thirteen years ago to do a Dottorato di Ricerca in order to be with my civil partner who works in the opera house in Trabizona. We are now settled there with a young family. I doubt whether we will consider coming back to England until our children are in their teens. Do you know, I have only set foot in this town two or three times since I left home for good at the age of nineteen. It was difficult being homosexual in this town in those days."

"Yes, it's not a very nice place, is it? I got out too. I'm head of a primary school in Newcastle now. I've known your sister Liz for some years and she invited me to come to her father's funeral. Have you had a difficult time living in a country which doesn't recognize same-sex unions?"

"Not really. The mother of our first child came to live with us before her baby was born and we became joint guardians with her of her son. We were not allowed to adopt him. Then she asked us to give her another baby, and she is currently expecting my child. The menage à trois works very well, and our status will be secured by my fatherhood, which will give me legal rights. However, that was not why I did it: the baby idea was Olivia's, not mine." His companion was not surprised. She thought Tom would be attractive to a lot of women.

"Liz and your old colleague Bernard Silverdale are the only people who cared for me after my mother died," Tom continued. "In spite of  de mortuis nil nisi bonum, I have to say that my father took up with a series of women who hated me, so I left home for good and made my home with my partner's family, who welcomed me as their son. Since then, I've only been back to see Liz, and when she moved to Newcastle I had no reason to ever come here again."

"What happened to Mr Silverdale?"

"He took early retirement after getting cancer. After chemotherapy cured him, he became CEO of the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust, where he is doing a magnificent job helping gifted students get an entirely free university education. That trust funded me for a couple of years at Camford, though that was before the trust was reformed and Mr Silverdale went to work there. He was my help and inspiration as a teenager, and I regard him as my real father. I don't feel any loyalty to the Northeast, and if we ever come back to England, we will live in the south. How about you? Do you like the city on the Tyne? Are you in fact from these parts at all?"

"No, I was born in York, but I do like Newcastle. It's a city that's doing very well at the moment."

"May I buy you a drink? I need one myself after singing solo! Liz!" he called, "Would you like a glass of wine?" Tom went to the bar and purchased two beers and three glasses of white wine, two of which he handed to Liz and Elaine, and the other beer to Aidan. The lady introduced herself as Caroline Eastwood. "How do you come to know Liz?" Tom asked. 

"Like you I taught her at school, but unlike you, we kept in touch, even when I got married and moved to Newcastle." At this point, Liz joined the conversation by inviting Mrs Eastwood to join Aidan, Tom and Elaine for dinner in Newcastle. 

"We'll be back here tomorrow to start sorting out the house with Elaine," she said.

The next day Liz and Tom returned with Elaine to the house. After their father had moved to the hospice, Elaine had started negotiations to buy a house for herself. The sale went through quickly and she had started sleeping in the partially furnished new house. Tom and Liz had arranged to see a lawyer so that Liz could apply for Letters of Administration, as Elaine had no legal standing. 

They promised Elaine that after they had taken what they wanted, the remainder of the house contents were hers for the sum of £5, she could take what she wanted and a house-clearer would be sent in to dispose of the rest, so the house would be quickly available to the next tenant. It soon became clear that there were debts to the value of about £5K, and the contents of the house would bring in very little cash, so in the presence of the lawyer, Liz and Tom took responsibility for discharging the debts. 

All that Tom wanted was to find out if the house contained anything that had been his mother's. Elaine showed him a drawer where everything of his mother's that had not been sold off by his father were left. There was a nine-carat gold cross and chain, and a couple of rings, one of which had been Mrs Appleton's wedding ring, and a large envelope full of photographs. Tom asked Liz if she wanted anything. She said no, so they took the items for valuation, after which Tom would keep them. 

The next day, they finalized the details with the solicitor, and Tom said goodbye to his sister and brother and niece and took a late CrossCountry train to Birmingham, where he changed to a train to Camford. About midnight he arrived and took a cab to Octavia Avenue, where having alerted Jon and David by phone, they were waiting to welcome him. 

After two enjoyable days, one spent in the Chemical Laboratory, Tom left Camford and flew home. He had been gone just over a week. He found Olivia still at home, squirming under the discomforts of late pregnancy. He gave her the rings and cross, and showed the photos to Luke. She kissed him gratefully. "Caro Tom," she said, "I missed you! I could never give birth unless you are holding my hand."

Chapter 61 Tommy: Spring in Padua

Back in Padova, the weeks sped by. My lectures increased in number and my stack of books in Italian for reading never seemed to diminish. In Trabizona, Olivia gave birth to a baby boy, to Tom's great delight. They named him Bernardo Massimo Appleton, and it was wonderful to see the beautiful little man put on weight. I was beginning to realize that my brother and Tom really had the best of both worlds: they had a share in a 'wife' and two wonderful sons who unlike me, would not have to grow up without a mother, and moreover they had each other. 

It was a relationship almost as complicated as that of Duncan Grant, Bunny Garnett and Clive and Vanessa Bell in the Bloomsbury Group, but considerably more harmonious. But my sober self reckoned that Martin and I were extremely unlikely to find a woman who could accommodate both of us! 

In Padova, Matteo and I grew closer together. We both enjoyed each other's company and began to make a trip about every three weeks to see the opera at Trabizona. We felt so comfortable with one another that we felt able to fart in each other's presence without embarrassment—just a few giggles. Eventually, when Matteo asked me to give him a blow-job, I agreed. It was the first time that I had seen his dick, and what I saw gave me an instant hard-on. It was, considering that Matteo was only of average height, a pretty gigantic love-stick, with an interesting curve towards the tip. 

I had always wanted to suck a curly cock, and I almost drooled as I knelt down and began to kiss and lick it. "Wait! I need to get undressed!" he said. "I don't want to be sucked off through my fly or with my jeans round my ankles." I had never seen him naked before. He looked pretty good. Although his shoulders were narrow, he was not as skinny as I had thought, and his bubble-arse was delightful. His belly was flat, and he had rather a nice neat belly-button that was asking to be kissed. He was suntanned all over: he obviously sunbathed naked. The thought increased my hard-on. 

He giggled when he saw the tent in my trousers. "When you're done, I'll suck your cazzo (cock), he said. "I've been waiting for this ever since you got back from England. I've wanked as little as possible, as I've been saving my sborra (spunk) for you to drink!" He pulled my T-shirt over my head and loosened my belt. He unzipped my fly and pulled my trousers down, leaving me in my underpants with a huge moist patch on the front. Before I could resume licking his ball-bag and rubbing my lips in his dark pubic hair, he had pulled my slip down to my ankles. Fully naked, I resumed my attentions. It had been a relief to find that he had no genital piercings. The thought of sucking a Prince Albert really turned me off.

"Hai un cazzo bello!" I said as I licked the sides of his cock and then moved my lips along the moistened area until I reached his partially rolled back foreskin. I begin to nibble it gently, and he wriggled with pleasure. "Sei amante bono!" (you're a good lover) he muttered. Then I started to lick the head, before wrapping my mouth round it. This excited him and he began to push his tool into my mouth and begin fucking movements with it. I clasped a hand on each of his buttocks and he grabbed a handful of my hair. After a minute or so of frantic excitement, he came violently and filled my mouth with his come.

He withdrew from my mouth and I savoured my mouthful before swallowing it greedily. I then kissed him, thereby transferring some of his come back to him. He kissed me back with some enthusiasm. Although I wasn't in love with him, he was a sweet and comfortable person to be with. I reckoned that I was lucky to have two such pleasant housemates. I was also proud that I was able to speak love talk in Italian.

"Matteo," I said, "Please don't fall in love with me! I am quite happy to give you a BJ, and I hope that you will do the same for me, but I have a commitment back home, and sucking is as far as I'm prepared to go. I hope that's OK with you," and I put my arm round him and gave him a kiss. He was a good kisser, and I enjoyed his lips. His kissing was as though he wanted to eat me: it was so hungry. I squeezed his nude body up against my own and ran my hand down his back from his shoulders to his buttocks. I could feel my cock getting harder and harder and began to ooze precome over Matteo's belly. 

He rapidly moved and knelt in front of me and began to lick the head of my cock. He turned out to give wonderful head. His work on my cock nearly sent me delirious. I wished that he would suck my dick every day! Eventually I came and in a wave of bodily ecstasy shot my spunk into his eager mouth. He savoured it happily before swallowing it. In return, I began to smother him with kisses. "Next time we'll do sessanta nove!" (sixty nine) he whispered.

[To be continued]



Tommy's Third Year at College Pt. 02



Chapter 62 Tommy: The Easter vacation

Padua university finished teaching two weeks before Easter. Rather than return home so early, we had arranged for Martin to come to Padova. The bed in my room was big enough to accommodate two of us. Leo had gone home for Easter, but Matteo was remaining in Padova to do one or two week's reading before going to his home near Rome. The three of us used to eat together in the evenings, and of course Martin insisted in going to the opera as often as possible. Matteo and Martin got on like a house on fire and were soon good friends, which was a great relief to me. Consequently, it was only a matter of days before we found ourselves discussing a threesome. Both Martin and I were a bit reluctant at first, but after Matteo said that he was quite happy with oral, and that indeed he was not keen on rear entry, we all decided to give it a go. 

We went out for a meal at the local taverna and had a bottle of wine among the three of us, just to relax us, and returned to the apartment, nicely full of food and made extremely randy by the alcohol. We undressed and watched a gay video on the television set in the social room. I was in the middle with one arm round Martin and Matteo, encircling their bodies and holding each of their cocks. Appropriately, the video featured a gay orgy with a mixture of men of different races doing all the usual things. 

Once we were all hard and oozing precome, we switched the video off, and adjourned to my bedroom, where Martin began to roll a condom onto his dick. I lay on my back on the bed, my mouth in close proximity to Matteo's big curly cock, as he knelt at my head on the bed. I spread my legs so that Martin could get easily into my arsehole. He got lube on his fingers and started to apply it to my hole, gently stretching it. 

I opened my mouth to let the precome dripping from Matteo's tool fall into my mouth. Martin was busy kissing my belly and playing with the hair round my nipples. I could smell the scent of Storing pour Homme from Martin and of sweat from Matteo. Matteo's balls were just in the right position for a spot of 'tea-bagging', so I started to lick first one, then the other and finally took one into my mouth. He groaned with delight. "È bono, bono," he murmured. Martin grinned. "I taught him how to do that, Matteo!" he said. "I'm about to go in!" he continued and gently began poking his tool into my shithole. 

Matteo by now was oozing precome copiously, and I reached his dick and took it into my mouth. It was my first experience of being penetrated at both ends at the same time, and it was delicious. The sense of satisfaction was redoubled by the thought that I was pleasuring two men of whom I was very fond, both at the same time. They both were obviously enjoying something that neither had done before. It was a situation over which I had no control, so I just lay back and let myself be fucked. However, I did a bit of work on Matteo's prick, which was satisfyingly fat as well as curved, and inevitably he was the first to come. 

Martin was hammering away at my prostate as if he had never fucked me before, and soon he too shot his load. As he did so, in his orgasm he let a huge fart escape from his rear end. Matteo grunted in delight. "Scorregiare mi piace!" (I like farting) he said.

I wished that I had known that before, because although Matteo and I were not shy at farting in each other's company, I had not realized how much he must have enjoyed it when he heard me backfire! As Martin also enjoyed farting, we realized that we had no need to struggle to restrain our flatulence.

We wound up the evening by Matteo sucking Martin off, after which, weary from wine and sexual exercise, we all three fell asleep in my bed. It was a bit crowded, but we were too sleepy to care. Our awakening the next morning was accompanied by a veritable anal chorus as first Martin, then Matteo, then myself relieved ourselves of overnight flatulence!

Chapter 63 Tommy: The Belgian beer festival 

One day in March, I received an unexpected phone call from Dad. "Tommy," he said, "can you spare a weekend off at the end of April? Easter will be over, and you will be back in Padova. Jon and I are going to the Zythos Bierfestival in Leuven, which is the home of Belgium's oldest university. It's just the sort of thing that would suit students like you and Martin. Martin will square things with his bedder and take the time off. He would find it difficult to get official permission, but if he's gone for only three nights, no-one will make a fuss. It's not as if he regularly goes AWOL, and he is keen to go. There are hundreds of beers available to taste, and the ambience in Leuven, which is full of students, is very nice. If we can't get an hotel in Leuven, we can stay in Mechelen or Antwerp and go on the train to Leuven. What do you think? You would have time to spend in bed with Martin!"

"Of course, Dad!" I replied. "No-one will miss me if I'm I'm only gone for three nights. But one thing. Can I bring a friend? My housemate Matteo is a beer lover. If he can spare the time and can afford it, I would like to bring him along. I'll book flights from Marco-Polo-Venezia to Maastricht tomorrow. It's easy to get from there to Leuven. We should be able to get back here for a lecture on the Monday afternoon. I'll ring you back to confirm that Matteo is coming with me." Matteo responded enthusiastically to the invitation.

So Easter being over (I had spent it with Martin at Rockwell's Barn), on the last Friday in April, Matteo and I alighted at Maastricht airport, and within an hour were on the train to Antwerp, where my fathers had booked two double hotel rooms and a single. We checked in, and found at reception that the rest of the party had already arrived and were waiting for us in the bar. The public nature of the place meant that I could only shake hands discreetly with my fathers and boyfriend. It was not an occasion in any case for passionate greetings: we had only been separated for little more than a week. We went out for a meal to a typical Flemish pub and enjoyed a typical Flemish dinner, with the accompanying beers carefully chosen for each dish. 

That night, my stud-boy and I went to bed early. My fathers completely understood without being told that Martin and I needed each other. Poor old Matteo was left with my parents.

Next day we were on the train to Leuven in good time for the opening of the festival in the Brabantshalle. The hall was already crowded with beer lovers from all over Europe. The Zythos festival is quite unlike other beer festivals. The objective is not to drink as much beer as possible, but to taste small samples of 100 ml of each chosen beer, from stalls run by the brewers themselves. We arrived early enough to secure a corner of a table, because seating is aways at a premium at beer festivals. 

In the middle of the afternoon, on my way back to our table from the toilet, I heard voices speaking Italian. It was a group of four men, obviously students. It was clear that they really had no idea which beers they should try, even after consultation of the multilingual tasting notes. "Excuse me for interrupting you," I said in Italian, "but I think that you need help with choosing beers. Would you like me to suggest some good ones?" They looked up in surprise, but gratefully accepted the offer. I asked them what styles of beer they liked. They did not seem to know, so I marked in their programmes half a dozen different styles: blonde, dark, acid ale, lambic, stout, pale ale and Trappist, and suggested that they try those first. 

I resumed my place at the table with Martin, Matteo and my fathers, and some time afterwards the four Italian boys came and took some newly vacated seats at our table. They were enthusiastic about most of the beers that I had suggested, especially the Trappist style, and Jon showed them how to use the classified index in the tasting notes to identify other similar-style beers. I had not heard him speak Italian for a long time, and I was impressed by how much he remembered from his early lessons before I was adopted. In turn, he was impressed by how much I had learned in my few months in Padua. 

In fact, it was not so much the increase in my vocabulary that was spectacular: it was the increase in my self-confidence. Throughout my teens I had been diffident and unforthcoming, due to the humiliations of my childhood by my birth parents, and the overprotection after my adoption by David and Jon. I could see now that I had benefitted enormously from life in college, and that most of my gain in confidence was due to Carol and Martin. I was confident that I could have a close friendship with Matteo without falling in love with him.

Round about 4 pm, the whole group of us (including the Italian students) decided that we had consumed enough beer and that we would return to the town centre in search of an interesting pub where we might eat and find more beer.

An hour later the party found an interesting home-brew pub in the centre of Leuven. We had a couple of drinks and soon after 6 pm were enjoying a meal. The Italians had some difficulty in deciding what to eat. North European cuisine seemed a bit unusual to them. After the meal, the four Italians left us to go on a pub-crawl, we returned to the station and caught a train back to Antwerp. 

Chapter 64 Tommy: Humiliation in Antwerp

We continued drinking in Antwerp for the whole evening and towards the end of it, the alcohol had induced in me the kind of lust in which I just wanted to grope any male within reach. I happened to be sitting next to Matteo and Martin and as Matteo was nearest I put my right arm round him and began to finger his crotch with my left hand. My parents and Martin could not fail to notice, and looked on in horror as I began to kiss him and unzip his fly. Matteo, to his credit, resisted my advances, taking hold of my roving hand and rezipping his denims. Martin leapt to his feet and said, "It's time that you were in bed, Tommy. You are not in control of yourself."

Jonathan called a taxi, into which we all squeezed, Jonathan having paid our bill. I remember nothing until the following morning, I when I awoke to find myself in Matteo's single room. I staggered out of bed, pissed copiously and began to shave. There was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Martin there. "Matteo spent the night in my bed! Can he come in, as he needs some clothes out of the wardrobe?" Matteo followed Martin into the room and took what he needed from the drawers and hangers and promptly disappeared. "Come with me!" said Martin, "your fathers want a word with you!" He escorted me firmly to the adjacent room, where Dad and Pop, already dressed, were sitting in the two easy chairs.

I was made to stand in front of them, and Jon, who was apparently the judge, said, "Tommy, we are all ashamed of you. We know, and Matteo knows, that you love Martin. How can you behave so childishly and immaturely? You're no longer a teenager, you're twenty now. Don't you realize that groping someone in public is a far worse symptom of drunkenness than puking in the gutter? And what do think Martin thinks after seeing you make passes at Matteo in front of all of us? I have to admit that, unlike Martin, you were overprotected while you were younger and not allowed to make teenager's stupid mistakes, and Dad and I must carry responsibility for that. But you're a man now, Tommy, and have to carry the can for your own stupid behaviour! We warned you when you went up to college that you had to learn to drink in moderation. You have let us down!" 

Martin appeared to be counsel for the defence. "We all love you, Tommy. But remember the old saying Never shit on your own doorstep. If you have to behave so stupidly, why on earth did you do it in front of your parents? Matteo and I could have dealt with you without all the trouble and upset that you have caused us and them!"

Jon resumed. "In mitigation, Tommy, I have to admit to a similar unhappy incident in my own past when I kissed two other men in David's presence under the influence of drink. But nevertheless although we all forgive you, you have to bear in mind that alcohol can destroy relationships." And he stood up and came over and kissed me. David, Matteo and Martin followed suit. 

However, after pronouncing forgiveness, Jon said, "But there is a punishment. You will spend the day alone in Antwerp and miss the second day of the festival. We'll all eat together tonight before we catch our flights tomorrow. If you feel like it, we can drink together tonight, but in moderation."

After breakfast, they left for the festival. I wandered about the town and looked at the magnificent cathedral. Early in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was Martin. "Tommy, I'm leaving the festival early, because I want to talk to you. Meet me at 2 pm in the café opposite the railway station."

When Martin came into the café, he hastily embraced me. "Tommy," he said, "you are mine and I love you very much. You are my Ganymede. In the role of an eagle, I carried you off from your girlfriend and made you mine! But what happened last night is a big warning to you! Anything like that happening in a couple of years' time would finish your career as a teacher. As it is, many parents are very wary of gay teachers. They think that their little darlings might be at risk. And at secondary school level, your life as a teacher would be made a misery as soon as word spread that you were gay. Many men can cope with that, but I'm not sure that you could. Pull out of that Dip.Ed. course that you've applied for!"

"NO!" I told him. "There are schools where there are no behaviour problems, and there are always primary schools. Employment law does not allow employers to discriminate against homosexuals, and as long as I'm not in the closet, I will find a job. If I can't get one in England, I know I can get one in Italy, as a teacher of English. Moreover, I can speak Italian fluently, which is a big advantage in the job market, so even if teaching is not my future career, I want to try it."

"It's your decision," said Martin, "and it's not as if you are ever going to need unemployment benefit! You need to make your own decisions. I still love you, and I won't see you again till August, so let's go to bed. I bet you need a fuck!" 

We returned to the hotel, went to our room and got undressed. "I had a nice night with Matteo. We didn't fuck, but I gave him a BJ. He's good in the cock department! I loved his curly tool!" said Martin. I was a bit taken aback that the two had had sex while I lay in a drunken stupor, and a pang of jealousy shot through me. I protested, but Martin told me firmly that it was my own fault, and I had to admit that he was right. I still had more growing-up to do. I lay back and let my darling boy have his way with me. He was rather rougher than usual, but I could not complain. "I like Matteo very much, so I don't mind what the two of you do together when you get back to Padua as long as you tell me about it." said Martin. "I trust you not to deceive me. I'm going to be quite busy in the next few months. I've got to do a module in Advanced Classical Greek. I'm determined to read as many homoerotic texts as I can find!"

Nothing further was said that evening about my behaviour the evening before. Next morning, we checked out and took a train back to Maastricht. On the train Matteo and I talked in Italian as we had no desire to be overheard. I asked Matteo if he was content with a relationship which could not get any closer, or whether he wanted to break it off and seek someone else for a longer term relationship. He said that he was happy to continue as we were, in other words, fairly frequent BJs, but otherwise just close friendship. That suited me ideally, because we both had a lot of work and exams in the following few months.

Chapter 65 Martin: A gay tenor

That summer, I missed my boy Tommy. A summer term in Camford without exams is often an excuse for idleness. But lacking my boyfriend, I spent little time on the river, though I sometimes made up a threesome with Ken and Adam. The two of them seemed now to have become an item, and both of them seemed a lot happier as a result. 

Much of my spare time was occupied by last-minute preparations for the University Opera Club's production of Die Entfürung aus den Serail, which was to take place in Week 6 of the term at the Hippodrome Theatre in Camford. We in the chorus did not have an exacting role and we had the time to observe the rest of the cast. The usual procedure was to hire professionals for the leading roles, but that year the tenor role of Belmonte was taken by a man called Gregory Rushford, who was a graduate student doing an M.Mus. He was an extremely nice guy, who told me to my amazement that he was a pupil of David Singleton-Scarborough. "That's incredible!" I said. "It just so happens that his son is my boyfriend, so I know David quite well. In fact, out of term, I'm living at Octavia Avenue"

"It's strange that I've never seen you there," said Greg.

"That's because we use a different entrance to the house to David's pupils!" I said. "He likes to keep business and family separate. Have you got time for a drink after the rehearsal?" He agreed, so when we were free, we went across the street to the nearby pub. Greg told me that he was entered in the forthcoming International Mozart Singing Competition at Dunchester in July, and was considering the aria Wenn der Freude tränen fließen as one of his chosen test pieces. "My boyfriend Tommy told me that David came second in that competition in the nineteen-eighties! Did David tell you that?"

"No, he didn't."

"Die Entfürung is a pretty demanding opera," I said. "Are you going to be able to manage climbing up and down ladders as well as singing?"

"Oh, yes! You mentioned that you were dating David's son, so I assume that, like him, you are gay?"

"Yes, gay as a nine-pound note! Two of his three children, who're adopted of course, are gay."

"Are you keen on opera?"

"Yes! It's almost an obsession."

"Then why not come to Dunchester and hear me sing? Your boyfriend's father is going to be there. You might get a lift in his car."

It seemed a good idea. The term would be over by then, and my darling Tommy would not yet be back from Padua. I sent an SMS to David, who replied that it was fine for me to go with him, but that he was only staying two nights. I decided to stay for the final, a total of three nights which I was happy to pay for myself. I managed to get the last available room in an hotel in Dunchester, which is a pretty small place, with not a lot of accommodation.

I told Greg and he said that he was glad that I was going to be there to support him. His friends at the Royal Academy of Music were tied up in other activities and couldn't be there, and his parents were opposed to him becoming a professional singer, so he had had no further contact with them for several years. "What about your girlfriend? Surely there is a woman in your life, or even several?"

"No, I haven't got a girlfriend, I'm gay."

"You didn't tell me that when I said that I was! But surely you have a boyfriend or several, who might come and support you?"

"No, I'm a one-night stand guy."

"I had better watch out then! I'm in a relationship, which doesn't rule out sex with other men, but limits it."

"So you can suck but not fuck?"

"That's it, more or less."

"I bet you're a top!"

"No, I'm not, I'm versatile."

...

The opera performances went well. Greg sang beautifully each night, and got tremendous applause. The professional who sang Constanza was magnificent, and the whole production was a great success, covered its costs and raised a few hundred pounds for charity.




Tommy's Third Year at College Pt. 02



I had spent so much of my spare time that term involved in the opera that I scarcely had time to think of my boy in Italy. But at the party that ended the last night of the opera, I wished that he was there to join in the celebration. I broke the rule that we had made previously and called him the next day on FaceTime and told him how much I was missing him. But within six weeks, he would be back home again, and I started crossing off days on the calendar.

Chapter 66 Martin: The Dunchester International Mozart Competition

Dunchester is a small town near the Fosse Way in the English midlands that has built up a worldwide fame with its International Mozart Singing Competition, held every few years. Entering it is the first step that many singers take to launch their professional careers. Agents and impresarios are in attendance looking for new vocal talent and the auditions for entry are extremely rigorous. It was the first of several competitions that Tommy's father David entered in his days of study with Dr Marcello Fabioni before he became an established professional singer. He came second in the tenor class back in the late nineteen-eighties. So it was scarcely surprising that David should enter his star pupils like Gregory Rushford for the competition.

During the time that I had known my boy Tommy, I had not previously met David Singleton-Scarborough on his own. As a sophisticated globe-trotter, he was a very interesting man. We set off from from Camford for Dunchester immediately after the end of the Pentecost term. A car journey is often a useful place to exchange intimacies. I told him how much the year in Padua had improved Tommy's self-confidence and sexual experience, as well as his Italian-speaking skills, and that David would notice that, as soon as Tommy got home at the end of the month.

David explained that because he had previously on two occasions been a jury member for the competition, now that he had a pupil of his own entering, it would not be appropriate to be seen too much in his pupil's company during the competition, but as tonight was the only opportunity he had to talk to Greg, he had arranged to have dinner with him and invited me to join them in his hotel. Of course, I agreed. I had no desire to eat on my own in a strange town: I might go wandering the streets in search of boys!

Greg seemed quite cool at the prospect of what might happen the next day. As he said, if he panicked at this stage, there was no hope for him on the operatic stage. He knew his two pieces, Wenn der Freude tränen fließen  and La fleur que tu m'avais jetée from Carmen perfectly, it was just a question of how it would go on the day. He drank a half-pint of draught beer and some water with a meal of poached salmon and vegetables. David and I had rather fancier food and a bottle of Bardolino between us. Greg insisted on going to bed early. He was going to have one 15-minute run-through in the morning in one of the practice rooms set aside for competitors' use. We had arrived on the second day of the competition.

Next morning, we all breakfasted early and were in the recital room in the Town Hall at 9 am as the Tenor class was due to start at 9-30. The competitors were not allowed to sit with teachers or family, they were all kept in a separate room, so that they were unable to hear each other perform. There were ten entrants in each voice class, with awards going to the first three. The winner of each class went forward to the grand operatic final with orchestral accompaniment, in which each finalist had to sing two different Mozart arias from the one sung previously. The whole competition was spread over five days, and the tenor class was on the third day. Entrants appeared in alphabetical order, so Greg was number 7 on the programme. There were only two English competitors, one Scot and one Welshman in the Tenor class, the rest were from America, Asia and continental Europe. Most of them were excellent performers, and I was at a loss to decide which of them were the best. When Greg's turn came, he sang both arias very well, but Wenn der Freude was heartbreakingly tender as well as melodically perfect. The jury was not just looking for beautiful singing, but good expression of feeling and emotion, and Greg hit the mark extremely well. The singing was over by 11-30 am, and it was announced that the jury's decision would be made public at about 2 pm.

Greg joined us for lunch, which we had in a small but busy tea-shop, and at 2 pm we were back in the hall, waiting anxiously for the outcome. Greg took third place, a result that both he and David were very happy with. David took the lead in the negotiations that followed, and Greg was fixed up with an agent and the possibility of further gigs. Then David returned to Camford, leaving Greg and me to celebrate his success. Over a celebratory meal, I said to Greg, "We can't have you scouring the streets for sex tonight, how about sleeping with me? It would have to be BJs only, though, my arsehole is reserved for my boyfriend." 

"That's very kind of you. Your bedroom or mine?"

"Mine," I replied. 

We had a very pleasant night together. Greg sucked me off in the evening, and I did the same for him the next morning. I won't go into details, except to say that he had a gigantic cock, lovely for filling my mouth, but it was a relief to know that it was not going to penetrate my rear-end.

We went to the Baritone and Bass classes that day, spent the night in Greg's bed and on the Friday morning heard the finalists. The whole championship was won by a soprano, who sang  Come scoglio from  Così fan tutte and Non più di fiori, the rondo from La Clemenza di Tito  beautifully and well deserved the award. In the afternoon, I returned with Greg by train to Camford, ready for the return of my darling Tommy.

Chapter 67 Tommy: A blow-job in Ravenna

One thing that Dad had always said to me was that if I wanted to see some of the most ancient and beautiful churches in Christendom, I should visit Ravenna. So, one weekend when I was not seeing my relatives, I suggested to Matteo the he should come with me to Ravenna for the weekend, so that we could see the mosaics which give the city no less than eight UNESCO World Heritage Sites. I said that he had been so nice to me, without any strings about relationships, that I wanted to treat him to a weekend away. There is a silly story that in the days of Tolkien's Middle Earth, the city of Minas Tirith lay on the site of Ravenna.

I booked a double room for us in a modern hotel near the centre of the city, and at 6 pm on a Friday night we arrived by train in Ravenna. Our room had two queen-size beds, so we were free to sleep either separately or together. We decided to have an hour in the hotel pool before dining in the hotel. We had an enjoyable time in the water and then showered without any sexual fooling around. We dressed smartly, as befitted a Friday evening at a fancy hotel, and went down to the dining room. 

By now it was 8-30 pm and we were both ravenously hungry. As residents, we got a good table with an excellent view of the room. We ordered a bottle of Prosecco to consume with our antipasto. "Tomasino," said Matteo, "You've got to watch it. I don't mind in the slightest if you drink too much and want to shag me, indeed you can fuck the shit out of me if you want to, but you will regret it bitterly afterwards. Moreover, anal is not my favourite form of lovemaking, so don't kid yourself in your alcoholic state that you would be doing me a favour! Let's just have a quiet evening eating and drinking moderately, and then a cosy night in bed together. Also we need to be up early tomorrow. There's a lot to see in this city!"

This sobering comment by a boy whom I respected reminded me of the warnings that my fathers had given me before I went up to Boni's. I remembered too how my biological father had beaten me when he had had too much to drink, and I felt really penitent. "Matteo," I said, "I'm sorry. You are wise and sensible. I know at first hand about the evils of excessive drinking." And I told him about the abuse I had received as a young boy. He reached out under the table and took my hand and smiled in sympathy. We continued with our meal. We both had an excellent fish dish, and consumed a bottle of Frascati. We wound up with desserts, but without anything further alcoholic. 

We then went into the hotel bar, but only drank a caffè Americano before adjourning to our room. Matteo started to get undressed. I feasted my eyes on his naked body as he slipped into bed. He was cute: slim and virtually hairless, except for his armpits, legs and pubes. The mere sight of him gave me an instant hard-on. I went into the bathroom, where I had to wait for my erection to subside before I could piss! I then farted and cleaned my teeth. I returned naked to the bedroom and knelt at the other bed to say my prayers. As I stood up, Matteo beckoned to me to get into his bed. 

As soon as I did so, he snuggled up to me and began to kiss me. In a flash, my cock was hard again and I began to kiss his chest and shoulders. My cock started to ooze precome. Matteo pushed the bedding back and turned himself so that he was in the 69 position, with his legs straddling my chest and his face deliciously close to my dribbling hard-on. His dick, not as hard as mine, was hanging temptingly above my mouth and behind it, his balls, tight inside his firm, round scrotum, sat rather than hung. Of the limited number of men whom I knew intimately enough to be familiar with their genitals (which is a major preoccupation with gay men), Matteo's package was undoubtedly the best. Sooner or later, he would make some man fall deeply in love with him. We each slowly took the other's cock into our mouths and licked and sucked and nuzzled. I, as the one with his hands free, employed them to caress Matteo's beautiful arse. We continued until first Matteo and then I came violently and squirted our spunk into each other's mouth. It was one pf the best sixty-nines that I have ever experienced. There is no doubt that Matteo was an expert in giving head. Having swallowed each other's man-juice, we fell contentedly asleep.

Chapter 68 Tommy: Sightseeing in Ravenna

The next morning we were up early and had breakfast. We then set out to see the major sights of Ravenna. We began at the basilica of San Vitale and the adjacent Mausoleo di Galla Placidia, both with breathtaking mosaics from the fifth century. After a break for coffee, we visited the Neonian Baptistry with more mosaics, and then the tomb of Dante. We then had lunch in a restaurant in the Piazza del Popolo, before spending a good slice of the afternoon in the amazing basilica of Sant' Apollinare Nuovo, with yet more mosaics, slightly let down by a dreary baroque apse. The church had a cloister garden where we sat on seats and held hands as we talked. 

Matteo complimented me on my Italian and asked me how long I had been learning it. I replied "Since I was 13, but I was used to hearing it because my fathers sometimes spoke it between themselves, and my adoptive brother who has lived in Italy for years speaks it fluently. He is bringing up his two children to be bilingual. Actually, he is not the father of either of his two children. One has an unknown father and the other is the son of his gay partner. I must take you to Trabizona to meet them and his female partner before I go back to England. 

"Maybe we should speak English together to give you some practice. I can teach you all the necessary dirty words if you haven't already learnt them from the internet! I want you to come and see us in Camford next year."

We decided not to eat at the hotel that evening, and dined in a rather attractive restaurant in a side street. It was a warm evening, and we ate outside at a table in the street. Then we sauntered back to the hotel and had coffee in the bar before going to watch television in our room. We checked out the pay-tv channels, but did not find any gay ones. We retired to bed and got into the other bed in the room, where I gave Matteo a BJ.

Next morning, I told Matteo that I wanted to go to church. He said that I should meet him at 11 am in the Piazza Del Popolo and we would have coffee. There was no English Church in Ravenna, so I went to the nearest Italian church that had a service at 10 am. After coffee we set off to see the more outlying World Heritage sites, which involved a bus ride, the church of Sant' Apollinare in Classe, with more mosaics, and the Tomb of Theodoric. We spent the afternoon wandering round the Parco di Teodorico and chatting. I found out that Matteo was two years older than me, and was in his third year of studying chemistry. I was surprised: I had never thought of him as a scientist. He said that he wanted to do a Masters degree after finishing his Laurea Trienniale and I recommended the chemistry department in Trabizona, where my brother Tom taught. We left Ravenna at 6 pm and were home in Padova by 10.

Chapter 69 Tommy: Exams and departure from Italy

The rest of the time in Padova passed quickly. I had several exams and tests to complete, all of which, to my relief, I passed. So, well into July, I persuaded my brother Tom, to collect all my possessions in his car and take them and me to Trabizona. The day before we left, I took Matteo out to dinner, and we then spent my last night together in my bed. I gave him all my contact details and told him to come and see us the following summer. 

I left about half my possessions in the custody of Tom and Luke until they could be sent on by a baggage transfer firm, and took the rest home with me. By now young Giovanni was walking, and talking in a cute mixture of English and Italian. I spent a few days in Trabizona before flying home to Lulsgate Airport at Bristol, where Dad and Martin met me. During my time in Trabizona, I went to a jewellers and bought a gold bracelet for Martin, which I had engraved with the inscription, "To my darling lover Martin, whom I will love for ever."

This concludes the chronicle of my first three years as a Camford student. The story will continue shortly with the entry of a woman into the lives of Martin and me. During my three years, I had developed in self-confidence, gained a lot of sexual experience, met the man I loved, and vastly increased my knowledge of Italian. I was looking forward to my final year with increased confidence in my academic and social skills.

THE END