This is the first story that I have tried to get posted. It was written a little while ago. It is set in the UK, where I live, and I hope that its Englishness will not spoil it for any readers who may be the othe side of the Atlantic or elsewhere. It mentions cricket, our greatest game, but it is not essential by any means to know the intricacies of that game.
It is one of a series of stories that I have been writing about Richard Lee. This story, though it just mentions him, stands on its own. It was my first attempt to engage in some of the more serious issues involved with gay sexuality. So I must warn you, there is consenting sex between adult men in the story. If that is illegal for you, or offends you in any way, then surf on.
I would be grateful for any comments or criticisms and helpful suggestions for any future stories. You can Email me on jeffyrks@hotmail.com
The Bringing out of Stefan Corby.
The morning of the 25th January began like that of many others for Stefan Corby. He got up at the usual time, shaved and showered in the usual way. Ate his customary breakfast of two weetabix and one slice of toast, with fruit juice and black coffee. He took a cup of tea upstairs for his wife, and gave her a parting kiss. He looked in on his two children, waking them and encouraging them to get ready for school; and then left to catch the 7.43 train.
If any of his neighbours had seen him; and some of the men were in the same procession to the station, then he would be accounted as a typical resident of that well heeled London suburb. At the age of thirty three he was still in the prime of life. He kept fit by playing hockey during the winter; maybe no longer for the club's top teams, but at a respectable level for his age. During the summer months he played cricket for a local team. He went to church most Sundays in the winter, cricket took up his Sunday time during the summer. In August he went with his family for a three week continental holiday.
Only Stefan knew that he was not what he seemed. He could not date when it had started; it had all been so gradual. He sometimes reviewed his past, searching for clues, wondering when and why it had begun. There was nothing that he could remember from his school days; and nothing too from his time at Cambridge, where he had read law with success. He had married Diane with a hundred per cent sexual attraction to her. Then he could remember admiring the physique of a man on the top diving board at the local swimming bath, and that was about two years after his marriage.
If he could not trace back the when and why; he was in no doubt about the inner tensions of the present. He knew how much during the winter months he liked to look at the bodies of the other members of the team, through the steamy heat of the showers after the game. He knew how much he liked the contact, and wished it would last, when someone casually brushed against him flesh to flesh in the shower or changing room. During the summer he knew how much he admired the bronzed torsos of workmen, and especially when they bent forward revealing the tops of the buttocks and divide between. He knew how much he stole glances at bulges in the fronts of jeans, wondering what was within.
He certainly would never have called himself gay. He knew about such things only from what he read in the papers; and the Financial Times, and Daily Telegraph were not the most fulsome sources of information on the subject of sexual orientation. He knew nothing from that greatest of teachers, personal experience. He had certainly never talked to anyone about such matters; and like most English men of the late twentieth century, he had no close friends to whom he could talk personally about anything anyway. When he considered himself; he took strength from the fact that he was married, the father of two children, a lawyer working at a Merchant Bank in the city of London, a hockey and cricket player, a respectable member of the community. The 'other' side of him; yes, and he sometimes saw it as the darker side of himself, was held firmly in its place. He sometimes mused on his initials, on the brief case, that he carried every day to and from work. His middle name was Ulysses, named by his father, an army major, after General Ulysses Grant, of the American Civil War. S.U.C - Safely Under Control or even, Sexuality Under Control. That was what he thought; but an event on that January day was to start a sequence of events that were to change his life.
It did not happen on the tube, even though he had to strap hang the whole way, and the bottom of a very attractive young man was thrust against him through three stations of the journey. It did not happen as he walked to the Merchant Bank where he worked, or when he greeted Giles, the 6ft 6in the ever smiling black doorman at the entrance. It certainly did not happen when he arrived in his department, for those who worked with him there were totally without any outward appearance of sexual vitality, whether straight or gay.
Just after the morning cup of coffee his internal phone rang, and he was asked to go up to see the managing director; an Anglo-Indian called Richard Lee, to discuss a small point in a legal document. A large part of Stefan's work involved either examining with the greatest care the small print on some legal document; or else himself producing the small print for other legal experts in other businesses to examine. He was with Richard Lee for about half an hour, before returning to his office.
It happened when he got back to his office. There were four men who worked in that particular office, with the head of department having his own inner sanctum; Stefan was hopeful that when the present incumbent retired, which was due within the next twelve months, he would be promoted to head of department. When Stefan entered the office there were only two men there, one was seated at his usual work place with his back to the door; but bending over his shoulder was a young man who Stefan did not recognise. What caught Stefan's attention was the tightness of this man trousers, revealing a pair of shapely buttocks, and the thigh and calf muscles of his right leg. Stefan looked, and he knew that rousing attraction within. In the moment that he stood and looked, the man turned; and as Stefan raised his eyes to look at the man's face, the man knew exactly where Stefan's gaze had been focused.
The man smiled broadly. "I am Peter Broad," he said, extending his hand. "I am new here, only started working here a fortnight ago."
"I'm Stefan Corby. I have been here for eight years." Stefan replied, rather automatically, beginning to wonder if Peter had correctly interpreted the nature of his earlier gaze.
Peter turned back, and continued the work his was engaged in. Stefan walked across to his usual chair and sat down, pulling some papers towards him. He felt slightly flushed, wondering what exactly had happened.
Nothing further happened for several days; and Stefan began to think that the incident was totally passed. He had seen Peter several times, sometimes in passing in the corridor, or in staff canteen. They had acknowledged each other with a smile, and a casual 'hallo'. Then one morning he went into the
loo nearest to his office. It was a small one, with three urinals, one closet, and two hand basins. When Stefan entered it was empty; and he went at stood at the middle urinal. Soon afterwards the door opened, and Peter came in and stood alongside. Both men stood staring at the wall. Peter opened the conversation, and they chatted about the weather. Peter zipped up first and went to wash his hands, Stefan followed shortly afterwards. As Peter was drying his hands under the automatic drier, he turned to Stefan, "You're gay, aren't you?" The question caught Stefan so completely by surprise that he blushed, something he had not done for years, and he blurted out "I'm not sure."
"Not sure!" exclaimed Peter, "If you are; that would make at least five of us in this place." He turned and walked out of the loo. Stefan stood confused. He put his hands to his face. What had he done? What had he said? He felt that some genie of disaster had escaped; and that he was waiting for it to strike.
The next few days were painful for Stefan. In his worry he was bad tempered, he seemed to have moved further away from his wife. He shouted at the children. He found that he was prone to make stupid mistakes with his work. He tried to avoid going to places where he might run into Peter Broad. He now always used the large main loo on the ground floor; there were always several people in there and he believed there was safety in numbers.
Then about ten days later he had had to work later than usual. The building was quiet, only a few were still working, and several cleaners were beginning to appear to do their work. He packed his case, put on his coat and made his way along the corridor, only to find Peter going in the opposite direction.
Peter gave his usual welcoming grin. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. I have been thinking over what you said, when I asked that question in the loo the other day. You said, 'I'm not sure'. Do you really mean that? I'm gay; and have known it ever since I was a kid. If you are not certain, that probably means that you probably have a lot of homosexuality in you. Perhaps you would like to talk about it some time?"
"I'm not sure," mumbled Stefan, "I'll think it over."
"Okay. I'm around, and easy to find." Peter gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and walked away.
Stefan did think it over. He thought it over very carefully. He weighed up the pros and cons of talking it over with Peter. He considered whether he could trust Peter. He considered whether he would or could be helped by talking it over with a person like Peter. He eventually decided that if the opportunity arose; yes, he would talk.
It was about ten days later that Peter met him just as they were both entering the building in the morning. "What about a lunch together?" asked Peter.
"Yes, I would like that," and they arranged it for the next Thursday.
Stefan found that he made his way to the office with mixed feelings that Thursday morning. On the one hand, he wondered what he was letting himself in for. Was he starting something that was going to get out of hand and land him in all sorts of problems. On the other hand, he knew that he needed to talk to someone who might be sympathetic. Peter might be someone able to help him to understand himself.
They met as arranged in the foyer of the office. Peter quickly got a taxi, gave the directions, and they were on their way. "I know a small pub where we can talk. It is not too busy, even at lunch time."
Peter was soon ushering Stefan into one of those small London pubs, that are tucked away in the back streets. They went up to the bar, ordered their sandwiches and drinks. They went to a table in a corner, with their drinks in front of them, as they waited for their sandwiches. Stefan looked round.
At first glance it seemed like any other pub, and then he noticed that there were all men in it. But that was not totally unusual for mid -day London. Then Stefan noticed a couple of young men in a darker corner engaged in a passionate kiss. He also noticed two older men, at least in their sixties, sitting at a table, and underneath the table one had a hand very high on the thigh of the other. Peter followed his gaze. "Yes, it is a gay pub. Haven't you ever been in one before?"
"No. Never." Stefan's gaze concentrated on the two young men.
"Let me tell you about myself. Then you can tell me as little or as much about yourself as you wish. I must trust you not to broadcast all that I tell you round the office; and you can trust me in return." Peter proceeded to tell his story, only pausing to glance appreciatively at the young man who brought them their sandwiches. It was quickly told, it was a story of a fairly early realisation of his sexuality, while he was at University. Which was immediately followed by a very active sex life. Stefan listened, amazed, and in some ways excited by what he was hearing. There were many questions he wanted to ask, many details he would like to have had filled in; but he knew that it was now his turn.
"When you asked me if I was gay, I said that I did not know. That is true. I don't know. I went to a good local school. It was still a grammar school in those days. In the sixth form some boasted of their female conquests, and their sexual prowess. I was one of the majority, who just listened. If there was any homosexual activity I knew nothing about it. I got a scholarship to Cambridge. I worked and played hard. I don't think I was very interested in girls. My first job was in a legal firm in Manchester. I joined the local hockey club; and it was at a hockey club dance I met Diane. I had always presumed that at some stage I would meet a girl who I liked, and we would get married and have a family. We got on really well together. When I took her home to meet my parents, they liked her. Same with her folk. I think both mothers, in particular, began to hear the sound of wedding bells, and the patter of grandchildren's feet. Our friends said how well we were suited. In many ways we were,... are! We got married twelve years ago. We have two children, Brian, aged ten; and Louise aged eight. They are great kids. That's the easy part; the rest is not so easy. I don't know how to begin"
"Just say what you want to say. I'll try to be a good listener."
"One of the things that I do remember happened just after Brian was born. Diane and myself had gone swimming. A slightly plump woman walked past, and I thought I am not attracted to her in any way. Isn't that horribly intolerant of me? I was immediately rather ashamed. Then I saw a young man, I suppose in his early twenties up on the diving board. I thought, there is beauty. It was for me an eye opening moment. We live in a culture where in human kind only the female is thought of as beautiful. And here was I, struck by the beauty of a man! I then began to see more beautiful men; and then I began to realise that I was being stirred sexually.
"I am a member of a hockey club. After a game, we shower. In the showers I would see naked men, and I would think about the sight longingly afterwards. Occasionally some chap would brush passed me, and I began to wish for something longer, an embrace, a more intimate contact. Then there would come a rejection of these thoughts. I would say to myself they were wrong. That I must not dwell on them I must not fanticize. I would struggle, and sometimes for quite a while I would seem to succeed; but then something would happen, like you bending over old Smither's desk the first time we met; and the thoughts of men would coming sweeping irresistibly in as though a sea wall had been breached with a powerful rising tide. I often feel that I am a crazy mixed up kid, as the saying used to go. I am ashamed of myself. Here am I, well educated, a graduate, a lawyer, a professional man, one who uses his mind, and I am a prey to emotions that I am ashamed of, and cannot control."
Peter reached forward and for a moment held Stefan's arm. He released it, saying, "Hold on a moment. You are more than a mind, a thinking machine. You are a man of flesh and blood, not just of little grey cells. You must take notice of your feelings. These emotions are a part of you. Perhaps these emotional thoughts are saying something to you, about you, that is important. Perhaps you should start listening to yourself."
"Sometimes I feel as though I will explode, or go mad."
"Your story is not totally unique. I know my story is different, very different. I knew very early on that I was gay; but that too created great problems, I'll tell you about them some day. There are many like you who only gradually, and later rather than earlier, discover that they are gay. I suppose you wonder if this is the real genuine you that is surfacing; or is it just a passing phase. May I ask you a direct personal question. Have you ever had any gay sex?"
"No."
"Do you want to have some?"
"I don't really know. On the one hand yes, I do, very much. On the other, I am fearful that if something happens I will be pushed finally over to the gay side, with irrevocable damage to my marriage; my relationship with my children, whom I dearly love; and if it got out, to my career. Bang would go any prospect of promotion.
"What about your marriage?" asked Peter. "Does Diane know about these things you have been telling me?"
"No, no way! I dread to think of what would happen if she knew,... if I told her." He paused for a moment. "We stopped having sex about eighteen months ago." There was another longer pause, before he continued almost in a whisper. "I remember one or two occasions, when we were still having sex, when I half woke in the night, and I began to make love to Diane. As I put my hand down to arouse her I was hoping to find a penis and balls. As I became more awake, I knew I was disappointed. When I became fully awake I was horrified at myself; even disgusted with myself. The first time it happened I thought I was some sort of monster."
Peter responded equally softly. "May not what you hoped to find have been an expression of the genuine desires of the real you?"
"Maybe. I must think about this."
"You are a very thinking sort of person. You must not just listen to your mind, you must listen to your psyche, your gut, the real deep inner you."
Peter looked at his watch. "Time is getting on, we will have Richard Lee after us!" With that they got up to go.
"Thank you for listening. You have given me a lot to think about." said Stefan.
"Not at all. Anytime. If you like, we could do this again; but when you are ready." So they made their way back to the merchant bank. As always they were greeted by the ever smiling Giles.
Stefan and Peter quickly fell into a pattern of lunching together every Thursday. They went to the same pub; and both cast admiring glances at the same young man who brought their sandwiches to the table. Their conversation was not always on the subject of sexuality. They talked about sport, about politics, about religion, Peter never attended church except for christenings, funerals and the very occasional wedding, and about the bank. Stefan noticed that Peter never gave the name of the other gay people in the bank, though conversation several times revealed that there were several such. Peter used to touch Stefan, with a pat on the back, an arm on the shoulder; and sometimes a gentle squeeze of the lower thigh. Stefan liked the contact, but never felt free enough to initiate or respond.
Sometimes Peter would tell of his gay life-style, and Stefan would listen with a fascinated longing. After two months, Peter casually asked if Stefan and Diane ever spent time away from each other, apart from work and sport. Stefan replied, "Oh yes, most school holidays, and always for the half terms, Di takes the children up to her parents in Manchester. I very rarely go, except for Christmas, which is a compulsory fixture."
"Next time she's away, what about meeting up in town, and I will show you some of the scene?"
So it was fixed. The next half term was only three weeks away, and they arranged to meet up on the Friday evening. Stefan had to go home to change, as Diane had left with the children that morning after Stefan had gone to work. He was eager to find out where Peter was going to take him; but got no answer, except that it was not going to be anywhere 'way out'.
First, they had a meal together. They went to a Soho restaurant, which was almost exclusively gay. The food was good, the lighting and music subdued; and Stefan watched the goings on. But there was not a great deal to see. Peter told him the place livened up later in the evening.
Then Peter took him to see the film "Priest." They watched with interest as the younger priest wrestled with his sexuality, and all the problems it caused. When it came to the more explicit sex scene, Peter put his hand just past half way up Stefan's thigh, and gave him a gentle squeeze. Stefan responded by putting his hand on Peter's hand, and giving him a broad grin; but though he liked the hand there, he did not want it to move any higher, as he was only too conscious of the erection he had acquired.
After the film they went to a Half Way to Heaven for a drink. It was a noisy, crowded place, and the lighting minimal. On the benches and seats there was a lot of activity. Men were kissing and cuddling, and hands were groping. As the drank their beers, unable to talk because of the music, unable to move much because of the crowd. Stefan had his left buttock squeezed, and decided he like that too. When they had finished their pints, Peter gave a jerk of his head towards the door, and they began to inch their way through the seething mass of mankind. When they eventually got out on to the pavement Stefan exclaimed, "Well, that was an experience!"
Peter laughed. "What now? Would you like to come back to my place for a coffee."
Stefan looked at his watch. "Why not? I don't have to be back at any time;
and if it gets that late I can always go home by taxi."
They made there way by tube to Islington and the socially upwardly mobile area where Stefan lived. It was a terrace house. Originally built for a family, with servants working in the basement and sleeping in the attic, but with three floors for the family between. The house had descended the social scale, and was now on the rebound. It had been bought cheaply, and developed into several highly desirable flats. Peter's flat was on the floor immediately below the attic. It consisted of a spacious hall, and large reception room that had four windows across the front of the house; a kitchen, bathroom, a medium sized bedroom with a medium sized television in the corner, and a small bedroom or box room. It was tastefully furnished, with a thick carpet and curtains, and some excellent water-colours.
As they entered Peter switched on the light; indicated where the loo was, and ushered Stefan into the large room. Stefan sat down on a large settee while Peter went and prepared the coffee. After a few minutes he came in with a percolator and cups on a tray, and proceeded to set the coffee maker to work..
"What did you think of the film?"
"I enjoyed it."
"What about the sexy bit?" said Peter, "Have you ever seen anything like it before."
"No, I'm afraid I have led a sheltered life when it comes to the gay side of life. I know that is difficult to believe in this day and age. But being married makes a big difference. But I did enjoy it."
"I thought you did."
Peter was desperately trying to work out whether to try and take things any further that evening. He decided not to; Stefan had still further to go before he would be ready to respond to a definite advance.
"I've got some much more explicit videos. I might show them to you some other time."
The conversation then returned to the film, and they discussed whether the young priest was right in getting angry with God. Peter thought that was a good part, and showed further reality; Stefan, being the more correct, was not happy with the incident. After half an hour Stefan looked at his watch, and said that as he could still catch a train home he ought to be going. They stood up and made their way to the door. When Stefan started to thank Peter for the evening, Peter reached out and gave Stefan a hug. Stefan's immediate reaction was to tense his body, but quickly he relaxed and put his arms round Peter. "Yes thank you. I would like us to meet like this again."
Next came the Easter holidays, and though they tried to arrange something it proved impossible, as neither of them was going to be in London at the same time. So the next evening they had together was in the middle of the summer term. It was in the middle of a hot spell; so after they had had a lingering meal, they decided that they did not want to be inside so they walked down through Trafalgar Square, and round St Jame's Park. Then they made their way back. to Brief Encounter, another noisy crowded gay pub for a drink. Peter bought the drinks, and led the way through the very crowded ground floor bar. Then they went downstairs into the basement. The noise was greater here, with the steady powerful beat of the music. Except for one spot were Stefan felt a blast of icy air from the air conditioner, it was stiflingly hot. The room was full of men, some just standing watching, others moving to the music, and a few intimately together moving to the beat.
When they had half drunk their beers Stefan realised that he needed to go to the loo. He handed Peter his glass and explained where he was going. Peter grinned and said, "Be careful."
Stefan made his way to the loo. There were several men, of various ages there, talking and laughing. While Stefan was at the urinal and man in his late twenties, probably slightly the worse for wear, came and occupied the stall next to him. The young man leaned over and looked down at Stefan's cock. "You've got a good one there. Any chance?"
Before he could think, Stefan replied, "Not tonight mate, its already booked."
"Good on you. Somebody is in luck." The other man zipped up his jeans and walked out.
Stefan was non-plussed at his own reaction, and reply. He washed his hands, and then saw the funny side of what had happened, so he walked back into the bar with a broad grin on his face.
"What happened to you?"
"Oh, I'll tell you sometime."
They finished their beers, and they both began to move to the beat of the music. They grinned at each other. Peter put his hands on Stefan's shoulders and they danced together, looking into each others eyes. The drinks, their movement, and the heat made them sweat. Stefan could feel the perspiration running down his back. After about half an hour, Peter suggested they left. They made their way up the narrow staircase to the road. It felt pleasantly cool after the heat below.
"Back to my place?" said Peter. This time they did not catch the tube, but walked. When they entered the flat, they both felt damp and dirty.
"Would you like a shower?" asked Peter, "I can always lend you a shirt and pants. You'll feel a lot better then."
"That would be fine. I feel that I must stink to high heaven."
Peter handed Stefan a large towel, and said, "You go first."
Stefan went into the bathroom. There was a bath, hand basin, and a stand-in shower. He quickly undressed, adjusted the temperature of the water, stepped in, and closed the shower door. He had just soaped himself, and was beginning to feel much better, when the shower door opened, and Peter stepped inside.
"Move over a bit, I could not wait."
Stefan was surprised! He felt Peter's body alongside him, and immediately he was conscious of getting an erection. He turned his back toward Peter in his embarrassment. He felt Peter's hands grip the tops of his arms and turn him.
"What's the matter. You not ashamed of what you' ve got, are you?".
"No, but I am ashamed of what it is doing."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm getting quite a hard on." They stood face to face, and looked down at each other. There was not much to choose between the two cocks that jutted out towards each other. They looked up into each others eyes, and laughed. Peter pulled Stefan towards him, put his arms round him, and began to kiss. Peter first felt Stefan tense, almost enough to want to pull away; but then he relaxed, and Stefan's arms were round him. They stood together, each conscious of the other's cock; hands beginning to move on each others back, lower each time; and exchanging kisses.
"Where have I been so long?" sighed Stefan, coming up for air.
"Perhaps you are now discovering who you are! What you are!"
They got out of the shower, and before beginning to dry themselves, stood and looked at each other. Peter was tall and slim, with a small patch of fair hair on his chest, his circumcised penis thrusting out from a thick patch of hair, his testicles hanging loosely and heavily. Stefan was shorter and more muscular from his sporting activities, with a large patch of dark brown hair on his chest, his uncircumcised penis rampant, and his testicles out of sight, gathered up, because he was the more aroused. They both approved at what they saw, and laughed.
"What would you like?" asked Peter. "A drink?"
Peter went into the kitchen and soon came out with a couple of glasses of red wine. He handed one to Stefan and led the way through to the bedroom. He pulled the duvet off and got onto the bed. He sat upright and raised his glass to Stefan, "Here's to us!"
Stefan got onto the bed and sat beside Peter, sipping his wine. After several moments of mutual silence, Peter put down his glass and raised his arms. "This is the life, a hot summer evening, a comfortable bed, a glass of wine, and best and most important of all a naked man alongside me." Stefan turned and grinned at Peter. Peter then took Stefan's glass and put it down on the bedside table. He then put his arms round Stefan and kissed him. Immediately Stefan's cock began to harden, and again he felt embarrassed. Peter sensed this, and put his hand on the hardening cock. "Feel free. Don't worry. We do what you want, no more." By some mutual sense they slid down, their arms round each other, their legs entwined.
Peter began to kiss Stefan, first kisses on the lips, then all over his face and neck. Stefan lay back. He had never been kissed like this, it was though his body was being tuned up to a new pitch of awareness. The kisses were on shoulder, chest, and nipples. He had never before realised what sensations could come through his nipples. Peter then lay back. Stefan then lay on top of Peter, and began to kiss Peter face and neck. It was then he felt a familiar sensation in this new situation arising in his loins. "Oh damn! I'm going to come," he said as he tried to pull away. But Peter was too quick for him. He grasped Stefan, hugging him closely so he could not move away. With a groan Stefan came, his spasms shooting a copious load onto Peter's belly.
"I'm sorry....."
"Why? Don't apologise. I hope you enjoyed it. I did. Your pleasure was my pleasure. You will soon refuel and be ready for off again."
"But I came all over you."
"So what" He got off the bed, and got a small towel, and wiped himself, before handing it to Stefan. "I don't mind. I may come all over you next time." They lay on the bed together. Stefan held in Peter's arms. "Relax now. That was good." Within a few minutes both were dosing.
About half an hour later Peter stirred. Very gently he began to stroke Stefan's back and bum. After a few minutes he too was fully awake. Stefan looked at Peter, and grinned. "Do you know what happened when I went to the loo at the pub? A young chap propositioned me. I said that I was already booked for tonight. I must be a prophet!"
Soon they were both active in arousing each other. The night passed quickly, with periods of about an hour's sleep, followed spells of sexual activity of an elementary kind.
Stefan glanced at his watch, and saw that it was nearly nine. He lept from the bed. "I must get going. I've got a cricket match started at 11.30. Fortunately it is a home match."
A quick shower, and a quick bite of cereal and toast, and Stefan was ready for away. They stood for a moment in the hall.
"Thank you, Peter, for last night. I feel different. I feel fulfilled, and fully myself in a way I have never felt before. Thank you." They gave each other a hug and a quick kiss.
Stefan travelled home on the train to collect his cricket gear remembering with a thrilled joy the evening and night before. Throughout the cricket match, his mind wandered back over what had happened. Fortunately he did not drop any catches, though his score was rather less than that seasons average. The sense of joyous well being lasted through out the evening. He wondered if any of the other cricketers, in his own team and on the other side, were like himself. Peter had said that something between one in six and one in twenty were gay, so on the law of averages there may well have been at least one other gay man playing cricket that day. Who?
It was about 10.00 the next morning, just as he was doing various odd jobs round the house, and tidying the place ready for Di and the children's return that evening, that the first wave of guilt and shame swept over him. He had never been a great church goer, but he knew that what he had done yesterday was not right in the eyes of the church and of God. The thought of Di; would she see what he had done written on his face? What if Peter crowed about the night at work, and it got out. Dismissal, scandal and shame! He sat down, put his head in his hands. He thought of his parents, Di's parents, the children. He sat for over an hour, and then began to get going again, and prepared for the cricket match. The game and the company kept the feelings away, and he felt fine when drinking his couple of pints of bitter at the bar after the match. He even began to wonder at what he had felt during the later part of the morning. Then as he drove home the feelings of the morning returned.
Di did not notice anything different. She chatted about her visit to her parents, and barely asked him how he had got on. The next morning, as he made his way to work, he began to wonder how he was going to face Peter. He arrived at the bank, and Giles the doorman, gave him his usual warm greeting. He saw nothing of Peter in the morning, or over lunch. It was late in the afternoon when he was deep in concentration, that he felt a hand on his shoulder, as Peter whispered in his ear, "Are you okay?"
"I think so."
"I'm around if you want me. You know where to find me." Peter gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and was gone.
He was not all right. He was on an emotional roller coaster. He swung up to moments of great happiness, and the belief that he had really discovered himself, and then down to moments of black guilt, fear and despair. What did the future hold for him? What would happen to his marriage? He had only one person who could possibly help. The next morning he sought out Peter and told him that he needed to talk.
They went for one of their pub lunches. They had no sooner got their drinks than Stefan began to pour out his troubles. Again the attractive young man served them, but only Peter had eyes to admire the tight trousered figure. He took about five minutes to narrate all that he had been through since he had said goodbye to Peter on the Sunday morning.
Eventually Peter was able to speak. "I'm not surprised at all at what you say."
"Why?"
"Let me put it this way. Think over your past for a moment. You are a man with some religion in you; and what does your religion say about what we did on Saturday night?"
"It condemns it, completely and utterly."
"Yes, but there are a number of Christians, some of them of the cloth, who don't go along with the official line. It is an up and coming area of debate in the church at the moment. But I don't want to go into that now. At that public school you went to; what was the line there?"
"Against. You were expelled if you were caught, a couple of....."
"Yes, I'm sure. And at University?"
"Definitely frowned on. Those who were gay were mocked."
"Exactly! But what about your marriage, is that saying anything?"
"Well, I suppose so. Being married is a contradiction."
"Yes. Now can you see what I'm saying in all this. The whole of your upbringing condemns in no uncertain terms what we did on Saturday night. But there is that other side, the upward side of your roller coaster, you felt good at what happened. Felt you had discovered your real self. You felt warm and fulfilled, right? Now, let me use a simple illustration. You are like a chicken in an egg. The thirty odd years of your life have been spent in a shell with hard attitudes of condemnation towards homosexuality. Those attitudes have surrounded you. Over the last few months you have been like a chick pecking at the shell. On Saturday evening you broke a hole. A small hole through which you could see. The same shell, that has encased you, also in another sense made you feel safe. Now you can see out, you can see a different scene, and because it is different you are afraid. Because it is against all that you have been brought up to believe to be right, you feel guilty. Does that make any sense to you?"
"I suppose so, though I do not like being described as a chick."
So their conversation went on. They returned to the bank; and were as usual greeted by the tall muscular Giles. Over the succeeding days Peter made a point of seeing Stefan each day, and checking up how he was.
It was three weeks later that Stefan sought out Peter with the request, "Any chance of seeing you at your place?" "Is your wife going away again?"
"No, but I can make an excuse to be late home for one evening. If I tell her several days in advance of a meeting or something, there should be no problem."
On the Tuesday of the next week they left the bank slightly earlier than usual. The ever happy Giles bade them good night, though the sun still had several hours to shine over London that day. The moment they entered Peter's flat, their arms were round each other.
"That's what I want, desperately," said Stefan.
"I thought you would be wanting some more," said Peter at the same time. They kissed. Stefan's hands went down to Peter's crotch unzipping the fly on the way, and his hand began to make its way in. Peter's hand undid Stefan's tie and began to unbutton his shirt. They began to make their way towards the bedroom, entwined and casting a different garment at each step.
With one hand Peter pulled off the duvet, and they on the bed clad only in their shorts.
Oh damn! I'm coming again," said Stefan, as he shot into his boxer shorts.
"Don't worry," said Peter. "When did you last unload."
"Last time I was with you."
"Do you mean to say you haven't even had a wank since then! No wonder you came so quickly. Never mind, if you're anything like last time, you will soon reload. I've got something that may help." He got off the bed and went into the large reception room for a moment. When he returned he switched on the television and got into bed. "I've got my video wired up for here, as well as the other room."
The screen flickered, there were various credits, and a film began. "I'll get you a drink while you watch," said Peter.
The film showed two young men riding bicycles through some beautiful countryside. After a while it began to rain, and they made their way into a barn. They sprawled on some hay. One of the boys put his hand on the others leg. So it progressed soon they were engaged in oral sex. Stefan watched amazed.. He had heard of it, but never seen it. He hardly noticed that his cock was rising again.
"I can see that you are enjoying that," said Peter as he entered the room with the drinks, giving a nod in the direction of Stefan's erect member. "Would you like me to do that to you?"
"Yes, I think I would." Peter sucked at Stefan for a while, giving great pleasure.
"But you must come before I come again."
"Not necessarily, but lie back and I'll come between your legs. Stefan gripped Peter between his legs, enjoying the feel of the large cock. "I like this," he said. After several minutes Peter came; and they lay, holding each other. They turned to look at the television. One of the two young men was fucking the other. "That too is a possibility," said Peter.
"I think that will take some more thinking about."
"If you do, in these AIDS afflicted days, make sure you always wear a condom, you must play it safe."
Stefan stayed for about two hours, and then made his way home.
The Corby family took their holiday in France that year. They had a gite on a large estate, where every available building was converted into holiday accommodation. There were a couple of tennis courts, a boules pitch, and swimming pool in the grounds, as well as other things for the children. It was also close to the beach. It was Stefan's turn to look after the children during the mornings, as Di was a keen tennis player. It was a part of an unspoken contract that Stefan could go off on his own for an hour or two later in the day if he wanted to.
One afternoon they were down on the beach, Di and Stefan were reading and keeping an eye on the children. Stefan finished his book, and was bored. "I'm going for a stroll," he said. He went off along the beach. He had noticed on previous days a few people taking what seemed to be a path of sorts, leading up over and round the head land at the end of the beach. He decided to explore. There was a faint path. It led him up through some rocks, and scrubby trees, and then began to descend to sea level. After a good half mile of rough walking he came out on a small beach. There about twenty men sunbathing in the nude. This was something Stefan had never done. Topless women had become a common sight, fairly common even in England; but bottomless men was something new. He walked along, trying not to appear too obvious in his assessment of the male endowments on show. He decided to join in. He placed himself several feet from men on each side, and proceeded to strip off. He lay down on the hot sand.
There was very little activity. Occasionally someone would go for a dip in the sea, or walk along the beach. After about half an hour a rather very bronzed portly man walked along and stopped by Stefan. "I have not seen you here before. Is this your first visit?" The man sat down and engaged Stefan in conversation. No sexual overtures were made. The man told Stefan many things that he did not know about the whole area. One particular item of information was of special interest. The man said that the place for a pick up was the other end of the main beach, where there were some dunes behind, but it must be after dark. During the day the whole area was full of screaming children, but late evening!!
Three days later Stefan noticed that certain thoughts and desires were coming frequently into his mind. After they had eaten, and the children were getting ready for bed, he said that he was going off for a stroll. Di was eager to get her head back into her latest P.D.James.
Stefan slipped out, and made his way with a certain trepidation down to the beach. It was a glorious moon lit evening. The sea sparkled in the moon light. Once on the beach Stefan hesitated. He wondered if he would end up with a knife in his guts. The odd English tourist had been murdered in France. He walked on slowly, just a few feet from the water's edge. When he reached the end of the beach he stopped and stood looking out to sea. There seemed to be no one around. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong evening, or he was too late, or more likely too early. He waited. Then he heard the crunch of footsteps in the shingle. He turned and a man came up and stood beside him.
The man spoke in French. Stefan's French was very weak, but he could make out something about 'le mer', and 'la lune'. He replied in broken French, which the Frenchman had equal difficulty in understanding. They stood there in a strange expectant silence. Stefan wondered what to do, his French could not initiate let alone sustain a conversation in this sort of situation. So they just stood.
After what seemed to Stefan to be an age, the other man spoke, put his arm on Stefan's shoulder and pointed to the lights of a boat out at sea. Stefan's immediate inclination was that of most Englishmen, to pull away at the touch of a stranger. But he remembered something Peter had said. He stood still: the arm remained round his shoulder, so very slightly he shifted his weight towards the man. After another pause the man in turn moved a fraction towards Stefan., and made what sounded like an appreciative murmur. So they stood closely together with no movement. Any observer would have thought they were a rock or statue. Then Stefan felt a finger gently stroking his neck and ear lobe. He moved closer and sighed contentedly. The hand left his neck and began to stroke Stefan's shoulder and upper back. Stefan was conscious that he was beginning to become aroused. The hand moved slowly down and began to fondly Stefan's buttock. Stefan turned and put a hand up to stroke the other man's cheek. They then clasped each other in a firm embrace.
The Frenchman took Stefan's elbow and led him towards the dunes at the back of the beach. Stefan could make out that his companion was slightly shorter than he; and probably slightly younger.
The Frenchman stopped and stood in front of Stefan. In the moon light they could make out each others smiles by the reflection of the moonlight on the other one's teeth. As if by an unspoken command they raised their arms, and put them round each others shoulders, first in a hug, but then in a deep kiss. They both moaned appreciatively. Stefan was conscious that his penis was risen; and was not wanting the Frenchman to realise it. The Frenchman pushed his groin towards Stefan, and in spite of the denim jeans they were both wearing, he could feel the Englishman's hardness.
After several minutes standing enjoying each other, the Frenchman pulled slightly away, and his hand went up to Stefan's chest, undid two of the buttons of his shirt, and pushed his hand on to his chest. He ruffled the patch of hair on Stefan's chest, and then felt for his nipples.
Stefan decided to copy the actions of the Frenchman, and soon his hand was doing the same. The Frenchman undid some more of the buttons on Stefan's shirt, and then using two hands, undid the buckle on his belt, and pulled down the zip. Stefan stood still, and felt the hand first feel his cock through his boxer shorts, and then to make its way down passed the waist band of the shorts.
Stefan now decided to take a different course. He too undid the belt and zip, but he thrust both hands down the back of the others pants, and began to fondle the Frenchman's buttocks. The Frenchman now began to sigh and groan with pleasure. Again as if by mutual consent they pulled apart, and began to undress. As soon as he was naked the Frenchman lay down on the ground, and Stefan joined him. They looked at each other; and Stefan admired the other man's thick muscles. In the moonlight he could make out a thick but not very long cock, the head almost completely covered by the foreskin, but with the tip of the glans glistening with moist pre-cum. The Frenchman put out his arms, and Stefan came to him. They kissed, and stroked each other. The Frenchman lay back, pulling Stefan on top. Again they lay kissing, Stefan fondling one of the other's nipples, while both of his buttocks were fondled. A cool evening breeze on Stefan's back accentuated the warmth of their togetherness.
The Frenchman moved, placing Stefan's cock between his legs, and gripping tightly. They lay barely moving. Stefan's tried to hold it, and delay his climax, but to no avail. With a loud groan his cock pulsated, and shot a full load between the man's thighs. The Frenchman murmured, "C'est bien."
He then rolled on top of Stefan's and everything was repeated. They held each other in a relaxed contentment for several minutes. Stefan stirred. "Thank you, that was good, very good."
In very broken English the Frenchman said, "Now in the sea." He stood up and ran down into the sea. Stefan followed. They swam out about 100 yards, embraced and kissed; laughing aloud at the sheer pleasure of each other. They walked slowly up the beach hand in hand. They dressed. The Frenchman gave Stefan a quick kiss on both cheeks. "Merci, mon amie." He turned and walked away over the dunes. Stefan walked back to the edge of the sea, and sat for half an hour thinking over all that had happened.
When he got back to London Stefan soon told Peter all that had happened on holiday. "Good man," said Peter. "Do you know what you are now?"
"Oui, certainment."
"Now you know that I must tell you something. Every so often I hold a party for my gay friends at the flat. Let me know when your wife is going to be away for a weekend, and I will arrange to have one."
It was at the end of October, at the children's half term. Stefan arrived at 8.30, and rang the door. Peter let him in. You will know some folk from work, others you will not know. Come in and meet them."
The first person Stefan saw was the tall figure of Giles. "Peter said that there would be someone new who I knew along tonight. I wondered if it would be you. Welcome." And he gave Stefan an all enveloping hug', to which Stefan responded without hesitation and with enthusiasm.