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:- Philip Goodman is a Professor at Exeter University. He has seen the Email address of an old school friend Inky {Inigo} White, with whom he had a lot of sex when they were at school. They lost contact for just over thirty years.
Inky and I Part 7
This is the correspondence, so far, between the two of them.
Hi there,
I noticed your address on the notification message that Jeff sent out and allowed us to see each other's addresses! I wondered if you were at school in Maidstone Kent in the late 1970s. If so you will remember me well, as we had some good times together.
Phil G.
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.
X-x-x
This time I did not delay in sending off an email to Inky.
Hi Inky,
Are you still called that, or have you outgrown the name so often used in your younger days?
If you want; a brief version of my CV! As you know I got my first degree up at Manchester. I then studied for a D.Phil at Oxford for three years. In the autumn term of 1982 I started work as a lecturer at Southampton. I did this until 1998, when I got the chair at Exeter.
I now live in an old farmhouse on the edge of Dartmoor.
I have never got married, and I now have a wonderful friend, who is a neighbouring farmer. You will doubtless want to know; yes, it is a gay relationship. I often read a Nifty story before going to bed.
But what of yourself? You refer to 'our cottage'; are you still married to Brenda, or has your marriage suffered the fate of so many these days? I remember you had a daughter, did you have any more?
Looking forward to hearing more from you.
Phil
I did not have to wait very long before getting a reply from Inky.
My dear Phil,
I am usually called Inky, even these days. Inigo is rarely used; I don't like the name my parents saddled me with. I just wish I was paid every time I have had to explain why I am called by that name. I blame boys like you back in our schooldays!
Hearing from you has made me do a lot of remembering of those last couple of years of school days. Happy days! They were so carefree, even with all the exams. I don't think we worried or worked as hard as the kids do today. I don't remember you having worries about getting into Manchester, if you made the grades.
Yes, I am still married to Brenda. We had a lad Simon, two years after Sharon, and with that, Brenda and I decided we had made a sufficient contribution to the population explosion.
I think it is most opportune that we are back in touch. I would really like to have a good talk with you, if possible. I think you are one of the few people I could talk openly to, in spite of our being out of touch for so long. I reckon you are still much the same old Phil! Newcastle and Exeter are about as far apart as possible in England, though I suppose Berwick-on-Tweed and Penzance would be more. Do you ever come up this way? I am afraid my work patch only goes down as far as Leeds and Manchester, and then not very often. Unfortunately, I don't think I can get away to go that far without having to do a lot of explaining.
Do keep in touch.
Inky xx
That email gave me a lot to think about. He was still married to Brenda, but he was a reader of Nifty gay stories. How was he with that and his marriage? What did Brenda know of his past as a schoolboy? Above all, what did he want to talk over with me? I was sure it was not about our long-past schooldays. It was more likely to be about his sexuality.
I replied very quickly:-
Dear Inky,
Thanks for your email, and putting me more in the picture. Am I correct in thinking that if we met, you would not want Brenda to know?
I usually come up to Manchester once or at the most twice a year, partly for academic, partly for personal reasons. Twice I have had to come north to one of the Scottish Universities, but I have no immediate plans to come north.
How are you getting on with this terrible winter?
Yours Phil
The winter of 2010 was certainly the worst I ever experienced. Even down in the South-West there was snow and ice for weeks on end. There was one period of ten days when I could not get the car out. I had to walk down to the village, where the roads were barely passable. The buses had given up, but I managed to get a lift into Exeter in a neighbour's four-by-four, and so I got to work. I stayed on the campus for that time, until Andy said that he had got the tractor down the lane to the village and would collect me from there for the weekend. After that I was able to get the car out, and though many of the roads were frequently treacherous, I managed.
Inky and I continued to exchange emails. They did not contain any further important information, mainly what we had been doing each day, and moans about the weather -- after all we are Brits! We have to have something to talk and moan about.
It was mid February when Inky emailed me:-
Dear Phil,
Brenda is going to a conference/workshop over the Easter weekend. I am going to take the opportunity, providing the weather allows, of going up to the cottage in the wilds of Northumberland. I have paid one quick visit this winter, as the weather has been so bad. I will need to see how it has survived now the winter is finally over. It should be all right. There is no water in the house to freeze up and cause damage when it thaws. The main fear is damage to the roof, but it usually is all right. So I have had a thought; is it at all possible for you to come up to the cottage for the Easter weekend? I know it is a long haul for you. We would be absolutely alone, and we could really catch up on the last thirty years!
Yours Inky
I replied:-
Dear Inky,
I think that may well be possible. At the moment I am free, so all things being equal I will make that long haul just to see your ugly mug again!
Your long suffering and about to be travel-weary friend, Phil
XXX
I had kept Andy informed with every stage of my growing contact with Inky. We talked a lot about my forthcoming visit to see Inky. He had reservations.
"I'm not completely happy about your going to visit him. He is your old flame. You had an intense, passionate relationship when you were at school. What happens for me, for us, if that flame is re-ignited?
"I don't think that'll happen, too much water has flowed under too many bridges for it all to start up again."
"You don't know. The very fact that you've made a special effort to renew contact tells me there must still be something between the two of you. It may just be a glowing ember, but glowing embers can be fanned back into flame."
"I just don't think it will happen," I said obstinately.
"I'm not saying it will, I'm saying it might, and I am worried. Look Phil, we have come together, we've got a lot going for the two of us. In case you don't know it, you mean an awful lot to me."
"I know that, Andy."
"I don't really want you to run the risk; but as you are so hell bent on seeing Inky, I think you ought to face up to the fact, there's a risk."
"Okay, I acknowledge that there's a risk, but I think it's a very small one."
"Will you resume your sexual relationship, if you get the opportunity?" asked Andy.
"I very much doubt it. He's very much now - 'the married man'."
Andy laughed, "Many married men swing both ways, what if he makes a pass at you?"
"Like asking me to put my hand into his trouser pocket?"
"He probably won't try that way again. But what if the opportunity arises?"
I looked at him. "Andy, you are my number one. I wouldn't do anything that would prejudice our relationship."
"That is what you say now, but I bet you wouldn't say 'no' if the opportunity arose. You know, it might well destroy our relationship," said Andy.
I was silent, taking note of Andy's fear.
"I cannot stop you going. At one level I can understand your wanting to get back in contact with your old school buddy, but I fear it endangers us."
"I don't for a moment think anything is likely to happen. But if it does, I will let you know."
"You will tell me everything?"
"Yes, down to the last intimate detail; but I still don't think there'll be anything to report."
It was with Andy's very real fears registering in my mind we said goodbye that night.
X-X-X
So it came to pass on the Wednesday before Easter, I made the three hundred and twenty mile journey. First of all down onto the M6 and between the Brendon Hills and Exmoor, then across the Somerset Levels and over the Mendips and across the Avon north of Bristol. I always think crossing the Avon is leaving the West Country and entering the Midlands. The M6 continued between Gloucester and Cheltenham, passing both Hereford and Worcester. There was an increasing amount of traffic as we approached Birmingham and it continued to be busy on the M5. I crossed the bridge over the Mersey between Liverpool and Manchester; now, I thought, I am leaving the Midlands and this is the North. Gradually the traffic lessened, especially once I was past Preston and Blackpool. The Pennines, with Pendle Hill clearly to be seen to the west, but no witches interfered with my journey. Then the Lakes came into view, with some the higher mountains still having patches on snow on their flanks. The motorway went through the beautiful Lune Gorge and over Shap. I passed Penrith, and on to Carlisle. There I left the motorway and turned onto the A69 road towards Newcastle. This was a fast dual carriage way road. Then into Northumberland; I turned onto another A road to take me north, then after about fifteen miles, onto a B road. Then it was a road on which vehicles could easily pass. Another turning, and it was narrow lane with passing places. The last five miles were un-metalled road taking me up by a stream. Twice I had to cross it by a narrow stone bridge. It was rough driving, but Inky had warned me.
Eventually I went over a rise, and saw about a quarter of a mile ahead a small cottage standing alone. I could see there was a car outside; this was the end of my journey. My Sat. Nav. had got me there, and Inky's description of the last part was completely accurate. The track made a final crossing of the stream, this time it was bumping across a metal bridge with wooden planks. The door of the cottage opened and there stood Inky.
I would have recognised him anywhere. He was as tall as I remembered him, with the same welcoming smile. If he had put on any weight, it was not more than a couple of pounds. There was only one change; his hair that was blond was now grey, but I am sure there was exactly the same number of hairs attached to his scalp, which is more than could be said for me.
I got out of the car, straightened my body, and turned to be welcomed by Inky. We were formal; we shook hands at first.
"Come on, Inky. Surely the years have not made us that respectable and formal with each other?"
We gave each other a hug.
"You haven't changed at all, Inky. I would have recognised you in a busy street."
"I'm not so sure I would have recognised you. You have put on a little weight, and your hair is deserting you."
"Thanks for the 'little weight'; that is an area of constant strife!"
"Some good walking will help that, with some fresh Northumberland air."
I took a deep breath, and felt the cold northern air come into my lungs.
"But it's cold out here. Come into the cottage; I've got the stove going, though it does take a while to get really warm. I was up here for a few days about six weeks ago."
We opened the boot, took out my luggage, and made our way into the cottage.
Inky had warned me that it was small and primitive. There were two rooms downstairs. One was the kitchen. There was an oil oven and cooker, with a kettle beginning to boil, and something cooking in the oven.
"I'll mash some tea. This has to serve as both kitchen and wash-room. There is no running water, it all has to be brought in from the burn outside. You see the couple of pails."
We then went through into the other downstairs room. There was a wood burning stove, looking very hot and throwing out some heat. There was a table with four chairs round it, and a sofa and a couple of easy chairs.
"The heat from that stove eventually spreads through the whole of the cottage, but it does take some time."
Inky led the way through a door that opened onto the stairs. Upstairs there were two bedrooms. One had a double bed in it, and the other two single beds.
"I have put you in here. This used to be where the children slept when we came here as a family. There are some night lights, and a candle with matches, and a torch. If you look under the bed there is a guzunder, for you, if you want a pee in the middle of the night. The toilet is a wooden privy several yards to the left as you go out of the door. It is not a place to be visited in the middle of a cold wet night when a gale is blowing."
We placed my luggage in the bedroom.
"Now, I expect you'd like a cup of tea," said Inky.
"Yes, please. But first I need to let some out."
"Okay then. Go and sample the amenities, the privy, or netty as they call it in the North East."
I went out to the privy, and noticed that there was a copy of that classic about privies, 'The Specialist' by Charles Sale. It was a matter of peeing into the large bucket. Back in the cottage, we sat in the sitting room and drank our tea. I found talking with Inky easy. It was as though the years when we had been out of touch had been a few days. It was immediately like old times, as the talk flowed between us. We did not talk about anything serious, and certainly nothing to do with sex, that first evening. We both talked about out our work, our homes. He told me what Brenda and his children were now doing. He had prepared a tasty meal. Afterwards I washed up while he dried and put away. Then we sat and talked round the stove, which had its doors open and we could see the blazing logs. It was just after nine when I began to feel the effects of the long drive, the meal and the warm fire; I began to yawn.
"You are beginning to yawn, Phil. If you want to go to bed, do so."
"Thanks, I think I'll do just that. But I need a pee, and a bit of a wash and so on before I retire for the night."
"I'll warm up some water for a hot-water bottle for you."
While I made my way with the aid of a torch out to the privy, Inky put a kettle on the oil stove. When I returned, we continued talking in the kitchen for a while.
"I'm afraid this is not even one star accommodation, Phil. But I always open up the cottage for the summer at Easter. Brenda no longer comes here. No questions were asked. Here we can talk. I thought that tomorrow, if it is fine, we'll go for a good long walk, and we can really talk. I want to hear more of what you've been up to, and I want to talk things over with you." He put an arm round my shoulder. "It is quite like old times, just the two of us."
"True. The intervening years may well have not been."
A quick wash, a cleaning of teeth, and I was taking a candle up the stairs to bed. I slept well.
X-X-X
I woke in the morning to see the sun shining through the curtains. I got out of bed, and looked out of the window. There had been a frost in the night, and the ground was still white where the sun had not yet reached. There was a knock on the door, and Inky came in with a couple of mugs of tea. He wore a dressing gown, I was stark naked. I was slightly embarrassed.
"Now that's a sight for sore eyes," said Inky. "Though I've seen all that before, many times, long ago. You haven't put on all that much weight. You don't need a mirror to see your undercarriage."
"Thank you for those kind words. I always sleep in the nuddy."
"So do I when I am alone. It's pants when I'm at home." He undid his dressing gown and pulled it open. "I hope there's not been too much of a change?"
"None at all. Just the same as when you encouraged me to put my hand in your pocket at school."
He laughed. "I remember that. It was the start of some very good times. But I must get on. I've started preparing breakfast, and making some sandwiches for our walk. Do you want to shave?"
"I think I can give that a miss for a day or two. Anyway, I can't shave as I only have my electric razor."
It was just after half past nine when we set out that cold bright sunny morning. Inky had warned me that the walk was about ten miles, giving us plenty of time to talk. We set out up what obviously used to be a well-used track past the cottage, but was now more of a footpath, only used by the occasional walkers.
I am going to write down all that Inky told me, but don't think it was a continuous narrative. There were many breaks in the conversation, as we had at times to walk in single file; there were muddy and rocky bits to be negotiated, streams to be crossed, and views and wild life to be admired. Often we would talk about something else before coming back to the meat of Inky's own story.
"It is good to be with you again, Phil. I know we've not been in touch over these years, but you were my closest friend back in those school days, and I feel you are still someone who will understand, and to whom I can talk."
"Thanks, Inky. I feel the same. Old friends are always special, even when there have been long intervals." I gave him a pat on the back.
"I believe I told you a bit about how things started with Brenda. I don't know how much you remember, but if I may, I'd like to start where we left off, with you going up to Manchester Uni, and me just starting my accountancy training.
"I missed you one heck of a lot. I know there was Godfrey and Adrian, but they were different, they were older. I couldn't talk to them in the way I used to talk with you. I realised more and more that first few months when we were apart just how close the two of them were, and that in no way was I in a similar relationship level with them. Oh yes, the sex with them was always good, they always made me welcome, but for them I was the opportunity for some good sex. At one level I didn't mind, at another I did, I missed you.
"When you came home to pack up for your family move to Bristol, and told me about the guy you had met in Manchester, I felt it even more. I was rather jealous, I must confess.
"From the start of my time in that job in Maidstone, Brenda had been friendly and helpful. She said she knew what it was like to be new and learning the ropes. If I had a query, I'd ask her. There were many opportunities to chat in the office. We were both the youngsters in the firm, and it seemed natural that we talked together. She was great fun.
"I think it was she who suggested that we went to the flicks together. Naturally we sat alongside each other, and I know her leg was pressing against mine. I walked her back to her flat. I have forgotten whether it was the second or third time she invited me in for coffee. I had made no approach; - certainly hadn't kissed her on the doorstep, as most men do when they see a lass home.
"It was a very small flat, really tiny. There was no choice of easy chairs, just the one sofa, so I sat on that. She slipped into the bedroom while making the coffee, and changed her top. Instead of the blouse that buttoned up to the neck, she was wearing one that was very open. A very large part of her boobs were there for me to see. I was definitely embarrassed, I'd only seen those parts of a female on a beach, or at the swimming baths or in photographs. I'd never seen boobs so close to in the flesh; my eyes must have been like the proverbial organ stops! 'I don't think you've had much experience of girls, Phil.' 'No', I replied. 'Not to worry, even attractive young men like you have to start sometime. Your inexperience comes from your going to a boys school'.
"She put the tray, on which there were the two coffee cups, down on a small table and sat down on the sofa. I think we talked about work for a little while, but I know I couldn't take my eyes off her boobs. 'I don't think you've ever seen a girl's boobs properly, have you?' 'Not as close as this,' I said and grinned. 'You can undo my blouse and feel them if you want to.'
"I must confess I was getting quite aroused."
"You were getting your usual instantaneous hard-on you mean, Inky?"
"Exactly. I put down my coffee cup, and reached and undid a couple of her blouse buttons. I slipped my hand over one of her breasts and cupped it. It felt wonderful, Phil, so soft. My thumb rubbed over her nipple, I did it again and felt it begin to harden. 'You're not the only one with something that gets hard,' said Brenda. I think I said something like, 'Er, yes,' and made the necessary trouser adjustment.
"Then it was like one of those film scenes. We looked at each other, and our faces got closer and we kissed. You were a great kisser, Phil, and she was every bit as good. We had a long kissing session, and her hand wandered down to my thigh, and then began to feel my cock. 'That feels a big one, Inky' she said. 'Sofas are not the best place for a good snog.' She stood up, and pulled me to my feet, and taking me by the hand, led me into her bedroom. Once there, we kissed again, and she started undoing my shirt, feeling my chest, and then struggled to undo the belt on my trousers. You know as well as I do, Phil, that undoing the belt on someone else is never easy, it is all the wrong way round; so I undid it. Brenda promptly undid the zip and put her hand in and held my cock. 'I want you, Inky. You are a lovely man. I want you badly; I hope that doesn't shock you.'
"Now Phil, what testosterone-filled youth is going to turn down his first fuck of an attractive, available and very willing woman?"
I think I just laughed. I had never been in that situation. I did wonder what I might have done if that shoe had been on my foot. "I don't know what I would've done, Inky. I've never felt attracted to a woman in the slightest. I must say, I was absolutely gob-smacked when I got your letter telling me about you and Brenda."
"I think when I thought about it all, as I walked home, I was shocked at myself. I think, if you'd have told me what would happen just three weeks before, I wouldn't have believed you. But I suppose the feel of her leg against mine in the cinema had done something to me.
"You know, Phil, what happened. We undressed each other. I got the first sight of a naked woman."
"Was it her first sight of a naked male?" I interrupted.
"No. A short time later, she told me she had made love with five other guys. Four of them contemporaries, the other a man much older than herself. She said she had learnt a lot about love making from him. 'He took his time, played me like a musical instrument, so that I had climax after climax, until we both came in a great crescendo of passion.' I think she taught me a lot, Phil."
"I presume, as always, you shot your load very quickly?" I laughed.
He laughed too. "You know me. I did, but, as you know, in those days I could cum two or three times in quick succession without losing my hard on."
"Inky - always the sex stallion!"
"You were just the same, Phil, in those days. Brenda was quite amazed at my stamina. Better than any of the previous five. Several of them were just one cummers, if you know what I mean. We repeated it a week later, then it was three times a week, just at her place, for two or three weeks. Before you could say 'Jack Robinson', I was moving in."
"What did your parents say?"
"They were not over-happy, but they liked Brenda, which helped a lot. Thought she was a good influence! They saw she was making me settle down. I think they thought it would hinder my studying, but I think it possibly had the opposite effect, at least for a while."
"Until Brenda caught on, and Sharon was on the way? How did that happen?"
"Brenda had been asked by a director of the company to go with him to New York. It was a business trip. He went over there once or twice year and always took a junior with him. Valuable work experience. Once they were on the plane, it was obvious to Brenda he was wanting more than a business colleague."
"He was wanting a good shag with the junior?"
"Exactly. So when she realised that, Brenda started talking enthusiastically about her relationship with me. When he learnt we were living together, his interest cooled. They did have quite a lot of work to do together, but Brenda was very much left to her own devices of an evening. He gave her money for meals, and got her tickets for a couple of Broadway shows. He found some girl to keep him warm at nights. It was in all the excitement of a new place, and the hours travelling and jet lag, she missed a couple of pills. It was too late. She got even less sleep the first night back. Not that she grumbled, always up for it. She took the next day off work because of jet lag! A few weeks later, she realised she was expecting. That really upset the apple cart. We were planning on getting engaged at the end of that year, and married eighteen months later. Children two or three years after that. Best laid plans of mice and men and all that."
"How were your parents over it?"
"Initially, upset. But when they heard we were more or less already engaged, they were happier. Realised that any wedding was not a shot gun affair. My parents, and Brenda's, rallied round. Stumped up enough of the where-with-all to buy a small house. There was absolutely no way we could've managed with a bairn in Brenda's flat. So we got married, got a house, continued to study hard, and had Sharon. Brenda took time off work, of course, and took a year out of studying. When Wayne was born she continued to study. When Brenda went back to work she worked a four day week, it all worked quite well. Grandparents were nearby, and enjoyed looking after the kids on alternate days. Life was not too bad. Then when I had qualified, and five years after Wayne was born, I got a job with great prospects up in Newcastle. Very different world to the south east. Some can't take it, but we liked it. Settled down."
"And the job prospects were realised?"
"Oh yes, more than."
"I presume sex was still good with Brenda; when did you start reading Jeff's stories on Nifty?"
"That came quite a bit later. I did, from time to time, think about those days at school, the times with the other boys, with Godfrey and Adrian, and especially with you. But that seemed to be firmly in the past. It seemed just a passing phase, an adolescent passage in parenthesis in the story of my life. But, as no doubt you realise, my dear Phil, life is not as simple as that. For a dozen or more years I saw myself as a totally straight man, and like many straight men, with some incidents of homosexuality in my youth. But that all belonged to a bygone era. I loved Brenda, I still do in a way. She's been a wonderful wife. I have two wonderful children. Then almost imperturbably, the old desires began to creep back."
XXX
Jeffrey Fletcher at jeffyrks@gmail.com