This is a story that involves sex between males. if such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
My thanks to Brian who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors, grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
Resume:- Phil Goodman, the narrator, is hoping to contact an old school friend – Inky White. He is awaiting a reply to his email, and recollecting the sexual activities of their teenage years.
Inky White Part 3
I had sent off the email to this Inky White and hoped that a reply would come quickly. Each day that passed made me think I was not going to get any reply. It was during those few days that I thought over my school days and my relationship with Inky, and all that had happened, as I have told you in the previous chapters.
Then one evening as I checked my Emails, there was one from inky.white@
Hi Phil, What a surprise to hear from you after all these years. Yes, I am the Inky White who you remember from our school days in Maidstone a long while ago. I notice that you sent your message nearly a week ago, so sorry for the delay in getting back to you. But I have been away at our cottage and it is remote, with no electricity and barely running water and other mod. cons. I go up there to get away from the 21st Century! But where are you? What are you doing with yourself these days, apart from reading naughty stories on Nifty? I am living in Newcastle and the cottage is in the remoter parts of Northumberland and I am still working as an accountant. Keep in touch, Inky.
Inky's Email answered a few of the questions in my mind and posed others. I knew where he was, but who exactly were the 'our' when it came to the Northumberland cottage? Was he still married and yet reading naughty gay stories on Nifty?
X-x-x
The four of us had a final session two evenings before I went off to Manchester University. My parents insisted that we had a big family meal, including both sets of grandparents the evening before. My departure for University would be the first step away from the family home for any of my generation.
Three weeks before I left for Manchester Inky had begun work, and was starting on the long road to becoming an accountant, even so we managed to find a final evening with Inky, Godfrey, Adrian. We had a good session.
I found Manchester quite a culture shock after Maidstone. Though cotton was no longer King, it still had a dominating presence in the city. The marks of the cotton industry's great days were all around, from the magnificent municipal buildings to the old mills and back-to-back housing that had been built in the Nineteenth century to house the mill workers.
There was at the University a new, small and struggling Gay Society usually called in an abbreviated way, Gay Soc. It kept a fairly low profile, afraid to raise its head too far above the parapet. It had a stall at the Fresher's Weekend, rather tucked away, not allowed to be in a prominent position, but I found it, found out about meetings, and went along to them.
Now I want to get one thing straight with my readers. Do not get the impression that the whole of my University life centred around gay sex. It did not. I worked hard, very hard for three years. I played hard, football in the two winter terms and some cricket in the summer, as well as belonging to a couple of other societies. But I don't even need to guess that my readers are not really interested in my academic life, or sporting life, so can we take those things as read?
It was five weeks into the term when something happened. I was living in a Hall of Residence and I had soon settled into a patern of study with a time table that suited me. I worked in the departmental library until 5.00 and then walked back to my Hall of Residence. This was a half hour walk, and the exercise and fresh air did me good. There was then an hour before dinner in hall at 7.00. That hour gave me time to do various things like doing my washing and writing letters, for we still wrote letters in those dim and distant pre-internet days.
I had to walk past the house where the Warden of the Hall lived. He and his wife were both academics and very busy people, with their departmental and hall activities, as well as their social life. I had learnt early on that they had a son, who was in some ways a disappointment to them. Though academically bright, he had chosen not to go to University but to 'work among real people, doing real work'. He was working in the building industry. He got back from work about the same time as I passed in front of the Warden's house. He was often walking along a 200 yard path while I was walking in the opposite direction. I soon realised who he was when I saw him entering his home.
Now when you see someone on the same stretch of path two or three times a week, you begin to recognise each other and pass some form of greeting. I suppose it began with a smile, or a nod, or a 'Hi'. I have forgotten now. Then as we passed there were coments on the weather, and so on.
Then one Friday night as we passed he said something more. "Going into town with your girl friend tonight?"
"No. I haven't got one," I laughed.
The next time we saw each other, which must have been the Monday evening, I asked him. "Did you have a good time with your girl friend on Friday night?"
"Like you, I haven't got one!"
We both laughed.
"Both en-route to becoming crusty old bachelors." I said.
"Perhaps we had better both do something about it," he added as we passed.
It was a Friday evening and now dark, with lamps lighting the pathway, when we next met.
"Fancy coming out for a drink tonight?" he asked.
"Why not! Yes, that'd make a change?"
"Meet you soon after your hall dinner down in the car park, if that's okay with you. I suppose we ought to know each other's name. I'm Robert, but usually called Bob."
"I'm Philip, but usually called Phil. Where will we be going?"
He laughed. "I know of somewhere you might like. See you later." He put a slight emphasis on the 'might', but he was gone before I could ask any further questions.
His words intrigued me for a few minutes, but then I met someone I knew, and we talked and they passed from my mind.
XXX
We met in the car park, and Bob led me over to his car. Again I asked where we were going, and this time he just smiled.
He knew his Manchester, and I was soon completely lost. He found a parking space that was free, and we got out of the car.
"This way." He led me down a couple of side streets, across the canal, and I saw a sign on the street, Canal Street. I had learnt that Canal Street was a place with a growing reputation in those days. With sexual activity between two people of the same sex in private now being legal, certain establishments, which up until 1968 had operated with a certain amount of secrecy and danger, were now becoming increasingly open. Canal Street was well on the way to becoming the centre of the gay life in the North-West.
Bob led the way down a side street and turned into a pub. It was like any city pub, full of smoke and noise. Bob got us a couple of beers. We stood drinking for a moment while I took the scene in.
"This part is just like any other pub. The more interesting things happen in the cellar. Interested?"
"Why not?" I was thoroughly intrigued.
Bob led the way to a door. There was a guy standing by the door who looked suspiciously like a bouncer. Bob said something to him, and pointed to me. The door was opened and we went down the stairs. The immediate impression was of noise, music and conversation, and even thicker cigarette smoke. We came into a large room. The walls were bare brick, there was a bench running round the side of the room, with a few low tables and comfortable chairs. The middle of the room was empty of furniture, but there were several men dancing. I then noticed that everyone down here was a man.
"Gay?" I shouted above the noise into Bob's ear.
He nodded and grinned. "Thought you might like it."
"How did you know?"
"Takes one to know one."
We both laughed. We stood watching the dancers and drinking our beers. The dancing was lively with an obvious erotic content.
"It gets more smoochy as the evening progresses."
"This is obviously a haunt of yours."
"Yes. Had some good times down here, and even better times as a result of being down here, if you know what I mean."
We saw a space on the bench and went and sat down. Talking was not easy, but we continued, rather having to shout in each other's ear. We finished our drinks.
"Want to dance?"
"Why not?"
We joined the dancers. I had not done much dancing, certainly none in a gay bar. Immediately I realised that Bob's eyes were on me, he was being sexually enticing. I responded. I found myself getting a hard on, and I noticed he was developing a mound in his trousers. He nodded towards mine, and I flaunted it even more. We were enjoying ourselves.
After dancing for a while, I bought some more drinks and we went and sat down. The cellar was now very crowded. The music was less frenetic, slower, and increasingly languid. The dancers were now making much more bodily contact. Hugs, kisses and crotch grinding was now the order of the day.
"Smoochy time?" I said to Bob.
"Yes, it's the time when many find out who they will be going back with."
"You done that?"
"Yes, but I have a difficulty. My parents know and accept that I am gay, but they say 'no' to me bringing home anyone in term time, and definitely no students at any time."
"That rules me out then."
"Would you like to have been invited back?"
"Yes! And I can't invite you back to my room can I?"
"No, it would be very dangerous. Pity." Bob placed his hand on my thigh and gave it a stroke.
I moved along the bench to get closer, and he reached an arm round the back of me. I felt his finger stroking the lobe of my ear. I did what I had seen some other guys doing, I put my hand on his thigh, and ran it up so I could have a quick feel of the hardness in his crotch. It felt very big.
"I like forward young men who do things like that."
Our heads came together and we kissed several times.
"Want another dance?" asked Bob.
I nodded, and we got to our feet and joined the dancers again. This time there was no watching each other. Our arms were round each other. Our heads were close, and we often kissed. I could feel his hard cock pressing against mine. It was most enjoyable and arousing.
I could see over Bob's shoulder that the other dancers were in equally tight embraces, and you could not not have got the proverbial cigarette paper between the crotches of most of the dancers. Bob was most insistent in pushing his cock against mine. I was getting more and more aroused. I realised I was approaching the point of no return, and if I continued for much longer I would cum in my pants.
"Bob, I'm about to cum." I said in his ear.
"Good. You won't be the first or the last."
"But in my pants!"
"So what? A damp patch, nothing to feel ashamed of." He ground his crotch more into me, and I felt the mounting tension. I was barely moving in the dancing, and was feeling my legs begin to go weak. Bob must have sensed that, because he held me tight. Then I shot my load. It seemed to pour out for ages. For a little while Bob was holding me on my feet.
"Wow, that felt wonderful." I gasped as I recovered.
"Good, I wish I could have felt more of it. But even through the layers of clothing it felt good to me. Let's sit down."
We went back to our seat. We had another drink.
"I think we'd better be going," I said.
"Are you sticking to your pants?"
"Yes, and it's most uncomfortable as it dries."
"Okay then. Let's go"
We got up and went up the stairs and out of the pub.
"I don't think I've shot such a big load for ages, if ever," I said.
"I hope you enjoyed the experience?"
"Very much. Very new to me. Never been to a place like that. I liked the dancing."
"Even though you came in your pants? Would you like to go there again?"
"I should say! Makes a great change from work."
"Yes, for both of us."
Bob drove back to the Hall of Residence. He parked the car in the area reserved for those visiting the warden. It was dark, and there was no one else around. We sat and talked for twenty minutes.
"Pity we have no where to go. Cumming in your pants is an interesting experience once or twice, but not the best of ways."
"I know. But I haven't done anything with a guy since start of term."
"I must think about finding somewhere where we can be alone and comfortable. Were alone in this car, but you can't do much in a car. Supposing you want to go further with me?"
"I certainly do."
We had a nice long kiss and got out of the car. Bob went off in one direction and I went in another. When I went to take off my pants I found they were stuck to my pubic hair, and pulling them off would be painful, so I went into the shower with my pants and let the hot water do the necessary. I was thoughtful when going to sleep that night, and looking forward to taking things further with Bob.
X-x-x
I didn't see Bob again until Wednesday, when we met again on our usual stretch of path.
"You all right after Friday evening?" he asked.
"Of course I am. Looking forward to this Friday."
"Good! I'm afraid it will be just the same again this Friday, but the week after we can do things differently. I have a friend. We went together for about a year some time ago. We are still good friends and keep in contact, but no longer play together. He has a small flat out of town, and works shifts. I had a word with him and we can go to his place on Friday week, He's on nights, so we can have it, more or less ,for as long as we like. He says 'anything for a good cause'."
I laughed. "Relieving my frustrations is certainly a very good cause.!"
x-x-x
On Friday we met up again and went to the cellar. It was much the same as the week before. One slightly new experience came for me when I had to go and take a piss. The gents was fairly small, just three stalls and a couple of cubicles. There were three guys in there at that time. Two had got together and were wanking each other off. The other was pissing but with his head turned watching the couple. I went to a vacant stall, pulled down the zip on my jeans and pulled out my cock. The guy who had now finished pissing was obviously wanting to see my tool. I turned slightly so he could see something. He turned more. When I had finished taking my leak, I zipped up and made for the door. The guy also zipped up, and groped my butt as I made my way through the door. He followed, but was obviously disappointed when I went back and sat down with Bob and we resumed talking.
We danced together, but not as arousingly as the week before so I did not come in my pants this time. We left slightly earlier. Bob did not take the direct way back. He pulled up alongside some hoardings.
"This is where I've been working, I thought it would be quiet here at this time of night." He put his arm round the back of my seat and began to stroke my ear.
I moved closer and put a hand on his thigh. We kissed, a long, increasingly passionate kiss.
"I'm glad you like kissing, Phil. Some guys don't, but for me it is a big part of doing things." His hand was on my thigh, and moving up to my crotch. I pulled down his zip, and felt inside. He was commando – though I didn't know that term in those days.
While I was doing that he was doing the same to me. He pulled out my cock. "Lovely." He bent over and put it in his mouth. After a short while he looked up at me and grinned. "We're not going to waste it in your pants this evening. I want every last drop." He continued to suck. A car may not be the ideal place to give and receive a blow-job but Bob did it well. In no time it was boiling up in my balls and I was shooting my load into him. He held his mouth there until it went soft. He had the last drop.
Then it was my turn. I got his cock out. It was about average size, but quite thick. I bent down and gave him a blow-job. Though Bob had got his seat as far back as possible, the steering wheel still got somewhat in the way. Soon I was receiving his load, and it tasted good.
We then sat back and talked. Bob told me his story. He came out to his parents when he was in his mid-teens. Their reaction had been positive, after all they were essentially liberal in their principles. His mother had come and given him a hug, saying that she had for several years wondered whether he was gay, and how pleased that Bob had felt free to tell them. His father said it was good that they knew, and that he hoped he would find happiness and fulfilment and would ask for any help should there be any difficulties.
I wondered what the reaction of my folk back home would be if I came out to them. I doubted whether it would be as accepting. We went on to discuss the whole issue of if, to whom, and when to come out.
X-x-x
The next week we met again in the Hall car park.
"What do you want to do, go to the cellar for an hour or so before going round to my friend's, or go straight round to my friend's?"
"Straight round to your friend's. These last two weeks have been very frustrating. We both know what we want to do, and have been unable to do it."
"And what exactly are you wanting to do tonight, Phil?" said Bob with a grin.
"For a start, to get your kit off and see you for what you are, and to take it from there."
"Same here, so it is my friend's then."
We got in the car and Bob drove off, out of town rather than into town.
"My friend lives in Stockport. He's asked that we use the small bedroom, as he will be coming home flaked out and will be wanting to go straight to bed. Also, he's not expecting any staying visitors so he will not wash what is on the bed, as we may want to go back for more."
"An understanding guy!"
"A good friend. I think we both just wanted to have some fresh experiences."
Bob led the way into his friend's apartment on the fifth floor of a block of flats. It was a typical bachelor male establishment. Bob gave me a brief conducted tour of the place, finally showing me the second bedroom. It was small, with a single bed in it.
"It is either in here or...."
He was unable to continue as I started kissing him. I pulled his Tshirt out from his jeans, and my hands went underneath, and immediately I realised what I had suspected, that Bob was a very hairy man. Slowly and deliberately we undressed each other. What did I see? A man slightly taller than myself, with a large bone structure. His muscles were well developed from all his work. He was covered in thick dark hair, all over his chest and back. His cock I had already encountered, but to my surprise his balls were in comparison surprisingly small.
He got me to turn round so that he could see all of my naked body. "Very nice. Lovely arse. I'm going to get a lot of satisfaction down there with my hands and prick."
We got on the bed; we had to be close, the bed seemed very narrow. Up until then I had never done anything with another guy on a single bed.
Bob was surprising gentle. I knew that his hands were very rough from his work, but whenever he touched me in my most delicate places, it was gently. The roughness of his hands and fingers just increased the sensation. His fingers played around my cock and crack and I was writhing in ecstasy.
We took turns in sucking each other's cock, but taking care not to take the other beyond that tilting point. We both expressed the desire to fuck each other. We were getting very aroused when Bob suggested that we cooled down by having a drink. He had bought some cans, so we broke off to have a beer and talk.
We held our empty cans in our hands sitting alongside each other, our thighs touching while we talked. Eventually, Bob put his can down, and took hold of mine, which he placed alongside his.
"Now young man, I want to give you a nice long fuck. How do you want to take it?"
"Me on my back so I can look at your face."
"And my hand can play with your cock."
"But don't make me cum, I want to fuck you as well."
"I know. But I am sure you shoot more than one load in an evening session, can't you?"
"I've been known to do so."
"Well then?"
We prepared ourselves and I got into position. Bob was very careful and gentle, no sudden thrust, but allowing time for me to open to him. The head went in, and slowly the rest of his cock slid into me. It was wonderful.
"Like that?"
"Yes, and don't you shoot too soon. I want your cock there for as long as possible."
"Pity we can't sleep together, then we could lie side by side with my cock in you all night."
"What a lovely thought. Though I have done a lot with my friends back home, I have never spent a night with any of them."
"Sleeping together is a great experience. We'll have to see what we can do sometime."
Bob was true to his word. He took a long time over it, coming close to his climax and then stopping.
"You're a real expert."
"You're not such an novice yourself."
Slowly Bob's movements grew, his hand playing with my cock and balls. I think we almost shot it off at the same moment. It was a most satisfactory fuck. When he softened and his cock slipped out, we lay side by side for quite a while.
Bob's hand strayed down to my crotch and started to play with my cock, which responded immediately.
"How do you want me?"
"I want you to ride me jockey fashion."
"You're making me do all the work this evening."
"Are you seriously objecting?"
"No." He grinned.
Again Bob was in control. Again he took a lot of time. I was able to play with his cock and and rub his muscular thighs with my hands. I think I came first that time, but his cum poured out in massive jets all over my chest and stomach. Though he had small balls he produced a copious amount of cum, even for his second emission that evening, goodness knows how much had ended up in me.
We were much later back to Hall. I was three quarters of an hour after official time, but the place was not locked up. Before we left the apartment Bob had left a note for his friend.
"Thanks for the use of your room. A good time was had by both of us."
x-x-x
Jeffrey Fletcher ---- jeffyrks@gmail.com