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Becoming a philosopher 7
Sven called regularly from Karlstad. He was working on the transcriptions he made in Lesotho and asked me to help check some of them. He said he was feeling much better and then he was upbeat about things. He was keen that I should visit. I was swamped with assignments and was working on a paper on Emmanuel Kant, the trailblazer of Enlightenment ethics. I spent most afternoons at my desk in the apartment working in the warm afternoon sunlight.
Carlo's architecture course was demanding, and he only returned home at supper time. We were still getting on well and doing our weekly walks. He spoke to Wynand regularly but didn't share what they were talking about. I suspected that Carlo was trying to justify some kind of relationship with him in his head.
I went hiking with Martin (the scouting friend who helped me with Sven's stuff to the airport) one weekend and planned to be away for a night. The hike started well, and we made good progress. However, the weather was changing rapidly, and the weather app on my phone indicated that a storm was coming in, the weather radar app showed that the storm was only an hour away. Martin and I retraced our steps and moved down the mountain quickly, and it began to rain and sleet just before we got to the car. I started the engine and we warmed ourselves up at the heater vents. We drove down to a nearby youth hostel and checked in for the night.
I had met Martin in scouts, and he had gone on many hikes with Matt and me. He was a slender young man and was just under six feet. His legs were long, and he often wore tight jeans with torn knees. His light blonde hair seemed to stick in all directions, and he walked with the playful gait of a young gazelle, his blue eyes on the lookout for any sign of imminent threat.
There was no one else at the youth hostel and we made our supper using our camp supplies. We sat at a small table and enjoyed our meal with a couple of local beers from the honour fridge. Martin was studying engineering and was struggling to keep up with the work, but he enjoyed what he was doing. I had never thought of Martin in a sexual way before, but the more I listened to him and felt him near me, the more I was attracted to him. I suppose I was always so obsessed with Matt that I had never paid attention to him.
It was freezing outside, and we huddled close to the fire. The winds had picked up and the windows rattled. Martin had also attended the posh boys' school with me and we were together from the first grade. He leaned his head against me and told me that he was always envious of Matt and me and wished that he could have joined in some of our private activities. I was surprised that he knew, and he said that most people knew something was going on. I blushed at the thought of it.
I turned to Martin and kissed him lightly on the cheek. I looked into his deep blue eyes, that had hadn't looked at properly before.
He asked:
"Tom, may I kiss you?"
I laughed nervously and replied:
"Wow, what is happening here?"
Martin recoiled for a moment. He panicked and said:
"Sorry...forget it! Just forget it! That was out of order! I won't do it again! Sorry!"
I calmed him down and said: "Relax, slow down, Martin. Come back...Please, come back! I didn't say I don't want you to kiss me. I said: Wow, what is happening here? But you didn't give me the chance to add anything: I thought you would never ask. Come on sit down, please."
Hesitatingly Martin walked back. Only now he noticed that my upper body was naked. With our lips still touching Martin let himself fall backward, pulling me with him so that I fell on top of him. I looked into his eyes and saw an expression I had never seen before, but which I instinctively understood was an expression of desire. I pulled Martin's T-shirt to get it off his body. I managed to do it without tearing it and then resumed my firm embrace around his neck, kissing him wherever my lips could touch him.
The intense, heated kissing continued for a while. We stopped for a short break to catch our breath, at least that is what I thought. Martin looked at me with feverishly burning eyes.
I felt my hands shaking when I carefully opened his jeans and pulled them off his hips, and I was rewarded by a beautiful, medium-sized dick, that jumped into freedom. I went down and engulfed it in my mouth playing with the foreskin and slowly moving the shaft.
"Oh wow..." Martin exclaimed, barely able to breathe, "You are so beautiful."
He was now past any shame and rapidly pulled off his socks. He kneeled between my legs, and softly kissed my gleaming dick tip, tasting the very first drops of precum on his lips.
"It tastes magnificent", he said excitedly.
"You like it?" I asked full of anticipation and Martin nodded. He lost all restraint, took the tip in his mouth, and started to suck it more feverishly.
"Oh yes", I moaned, "You're great!"
I licked my lips seductively and whispered: "Follow the flow of your heart and everything will turn out just fine."
We moved into a 69 position, and we soon released our loads in each other's mouths.
"Thank you, Tom, that was incredible, it's just a pity that I hadn't done this with you and Matt sooner."
Martin and I kept each other warm on that stormy night. In the morning we showered together, and I got a better chance to explore his body in the morning light, and I made sure that I tasted his cum again. Martin played with my dick and edged me a couple of times and made me aware of what I had been missing over the years.
The storm had blown over, and after breakfast, we drove back to the city. I dropped Martin at his place and made my way back to the apartment.
I was taken aback as I walked through the door to find Carlo and Wynand having sex on the couch in front of the window. Wynand was sitting naked on the couch with his back to the door and Carlo was facing him riding his dick. They were both making satisfying noises. Carlo saw me because he was facing me, but I don't think Wynand did. I retreated quietly and went to have lunch on my own at the local pizzeria.
I called Sven over lunch and told him what had just happened and asked him what he would do. He was in a philosophical mood and started to answer in the way Jurgen Habermas would. He suggested dialogue and trying to understand the situation better, and he added that I mustn't make judgments too quickly. He went on to tell me that he was masturbating every day and that he thought of me often when he did. Sven was glad to find this mojo again, as he had shied away from any sexual activity for a while. I joked and told him that he should rather visit some porn sites and that the guys were far hotter than a lowly pale-looking philosophy student.
I returned to the apartment at around four not quite sure what to say to Carlo. But I needn't have worried as Carlo wasn't around and I only heard him return around midnight.
I apologised in the morning for barging in on him and Wynand. Carlo said that it was okay and that Wynand hadn't seen me come in. Carlo told me that Wynand and Marisa were having some marital problems and that he had asked to visit. I listened, not saying a word. That is until I said:
"And so, do you think that him fucking you is going to make things easier? I don't think so, Carlo. It can only make matters worse." I realised as I was speaking that I should have rather shut up.
Carlo was red in the face and shouted at me telling me that I had no idea what was going on and that it was just the kind of response he had expected. I tried to back off, but Carlo kept at me, telling me how unhappy Wynand was and that he just wanted to help. I packed my lunch and left the apartment to avoid any further conflict.
That evening I apologised to Carlo and told him that I would mind my own business. He said that it was all right and that he knew that I was just looking out for him. Carlo did want me to understand that he would still be seeing Wynand and that they would work things out. He would also let me know future if Wynand would be coming to the apartment. That evening I heard Carlo speaking to him using words like "my love." I had learned my lesson and kept my thoughts to myself.
That evening I spoke to Sven who wanted me to come to Sweden over the European summer holidays. His mother, who happened to be a relative of the royal family, offered to pay for my return air ticket. I was excited to go and said I would like to spend at least a week there.