I was sat watching the news one evening. It was 1967. There was a debate raging about the decrimalisation of homosexuality. I now had a word for what Alan and I did, but couldn't believe we were criminals for doing what seemed perfectly natural. Lord Longford and Mary Whitehouse were aghast at the immorality of it, saying such heinous people would answer to the Lord. Eventually, after months of debate, a watered down version became law, allowing consenting men over 21, to commit sex acts in private. Big deal, we were still criminals. Needless to say, Alan and I hid our feelings for each other, making sure we saw other friends equally. The camping trip was forgotten and the media soon found something else to report on.
My parent's 20th wedding anniversary was approaching. One evening they asked if it would be OK for them to have a weekend in London and could they trust me. I assured them I'd be fine, I was more than capable of looking after myself. I told Alan, he'd ask his Mum if he could stay out the night. It seems crazy now, that boys of our age had to ask permission, but that's how it was. The weekend came and Mum and Dad left for the station. In the afternoon, I met up with Alan. We went off for a walk across the fields. Once out of sight of anyone, we kissed, like never before. We had been deliberately staying at arms length for weeks, frightened that anyone may suspect. We lay down in the grass, just kissing and cuddling, almost crying with pent-up emotion. Eventually, our shorts came down and we held one another's dicks for the first time in weeks. We kissed and jacked. It didn't take long to release the sexual tension that had been brewing. We headed back to town, getting fish and chips on the way. Once home, we ate and sat on the settee, watching TV and holding hands. It was bliss. After a while I stroked his thigh. He turned and we kissed deeply. I then stopped and asked him whether we should carry on, fearful of `The Law'. He responded by putting my hand on his crotch. Through his shorts, I could feel his erection. I pulled my shorts down, he could see my dick straining against my underwear. We kissed some more as I slid my hand over his chest. My other hand, on the back of his head. We undressed each other and went upstairs. In the bedroom we squeezed onto my single bed and made out, trying to resist going too fast. For the first time in our young lives, we were under no pressure. Alan eventually climbed on top of me. I told him to turn around and we found ourselves in the 69 position. We sucked one another's dicks, trying to hold off cumming. I worked my tongue up to his hole, licking it and covering it in saliva. Alan turned round again. Using his hand, guided himself down until my pubes were on him. He held it there for a minute, enjoying the sensation. He then lifted himself up a little allowing me to slide in and out. He leaned over and we kissed as my cock slipped in and out of him. As I sped up, I jacked him in time to my thrusts. We seemed to cum together, he covering my chest, me emptying my balls inside him. He fell forward, his sticky goo between us, We're both smiling in the warmth of the moment. We fell asleep, cuddling. Next morning, we had breakfast. He couldn't leave too early in case the neighbours saw and guessed he'd stayed over. We made out again, this time just wanking. About 11.00 we left together for a walk, hoping any curtain twitchers had assumed he'd arrived earlier. We wandered round the shops, before going our separate ways. Back home, I made sure everything was in order and there were no signs Alan had even been here.