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 John and Michael 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.
I am trying to use terms that were used by us who were young in the UK at that time, and not to use anachronistic terms, like gay, blow job, wank, and cum. It is surprising how difficult it is.
If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Part 22
Resume:- Trevor Russell is now an undergraduate at Camridge.
Part 22 Problems old and new.
The Summer term brings its reward to those who have survived the rigours of the first two terms of the academic year at Cambridge. Instead of the dampness of the fens, and the east wind straight from the Urals, there is the beauty of Cambridge in early summer. The ancient buildings seem to glow in the warm sunshine. The trees are in full blossom. There is the scent of new mown grass on the lawns of the backs of the colleges which sweep down to the river Cam. But if any undergraduate should become too intoxicated with the sheer beauty of the scene, the summer term is also, through some primeval error of the academic system, the term for exams.
Trevor's past came back to him in the second week of term.
He and Paul were studying in the library late one evening. The light of the setting sun was streaming through the stained glass of the library windows. Trevor was working hard reading for an essay on the economic effects the wars of Edward I. He was tired, and his mind was not working with its usual level of concentration. He had open in front of him a biography of Edward II. He did not know much about that King. He skip read about Edward's childhood, and the harsh regime of his father the first Edward, the conqueror of Wales,
and the Hammer of the Scots. He read with interest about Edward II's close, and probably sexually intimate friendship with Piers Gaveston, and a later possibly intimate relationship with Hugh Despenser. He flicked through the closing pages, to find out how Edward II died. He read how he had been held a prisoner in Berkeley Castle. One night the king had been stripped naked, forced face downward, and a metal tube was forced into in his anus. Then a red hot poker was forced through the tube into the bowels of the king. The screams of the King were reputed to have been heard well away from the castle. The gaolers thought this was a fitting way to get rid of a king who had allowed the penises of Piers Gaveston and Hugh Despenser entry at that place. Also there would be no mark on the royal corpse to betray the way he had died.
As Trevor read the account he felt the pain afresh of Fred's invading cock years before, forcing its way suddenly, and violently into his virgin anus. The abuse hit him again.
The pain was still there. He buried his head in his hands and began to weep.
Paul heard the sobs, and looked across at Trevor. He saw that his head was buried in his hands and his shoulders were shaking. Paul rose, and came across and put his arms round Trevor. "What on earth's the matter, Trev?"
"Oh nothing. Just something from the past."
"You need a good stiff drink. Come on, it's time to call it a day anyway." Paul gathered up Trevor's and his own books.
Trevor wiped his eyes, and followed Paul out of the library and through the quad to their rooms. He sat in an arm chair in Paul's room, while Paul poured hefty tots of whisky into a couple of glasses.
"Now what from your past has come back to haunt you?"
Trevor buried his head in his hands. "I'm ashamed to tell you, Paul. It is too terrible."
"I may not be a priest yet; but I do know that telling someone about something that is troubling you is always a help. Whatever you tell me will stay with me. I will regard it as having the seal of the confessional."
Trevor raised his head, and looked at Paul for a moment.
Paul came and knelt in front of Trevor, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me."
"I value our friendship, Paul. Telling you this will put it under strain."
"I doubt it. I don't think this is something against me, or involving me. You said it is something from your past. Before we met?"
Trevor nodded. "Long before." There was a long silence before he continued. "Life was grim in the East End during the war. As you know, my father was killed in an air raid."
"Yes, you've told me that."
"Family life went to pieces when Dad died. Mum just couldn't cope. Not only losing her husband, but having to work for the war effort, rationing, and me a growing lad. She started having men at home. Some stayed for a week or so,
I think the longest stayed for about three months. I am so ashamed telling you all this."
"I don't judge you for that, Trev. I don't judge your Mum. She missed your dad. She was wanting affection and sought it with the men she brought home. Who knows what any of us would do in such circumstances. So what was this re-awakened memory from the past?"
"Do you know anything about Edward II?"
"Didn't he have young male friends? I remember reading Marlowe's play. Didn't he meet a rather gruesome end?"
Trevor nodded. "I read about it for the first time this evening."
"So how did that stir a memory for you?"
"I was brutally and savagely raped by one of my mother's men friends. He was called Fred."
"And reading about Edward II brought it all back to you?" Paul put an arm round Trevor and hugged him.
Trevor nodded, and his eyes moistened.
"Thanks for sharing that with me. How old were you?"
"About ten."
"Poor you! That's a terrible thing to happen to a young boy.
He just shoved it in? No preparing you at all?"
"None. He was big, and it felt like a red hot poker. I bled quite a lot, and was sore for several days after."
"Lucky there was no lasting physical damage. Though there is obviously mental damage, coming to the surface today. What happened to Fred?"
"He did a bunk when he saw what he'd done to me."
"Am I the first person you've told?"
"Isaac, my Guardian knows. My friend Fergus in Scotland knows But apart from them, no one."
"I'm no expert in psychology, not done any priestly training yet, but I reckon telling me will be a help to you. You will probably need to talk it through several times. I'm here for you, Trev. What you've just told me makes me value your friendship even more. I'm here for you any time, day or night."
Trevor looked Paul in the eyes. "Thanks Paul. Thanks for listening. You're one in a million." He stood up, and Paul followed from his kneeling position close to Trevor.
They stood facing each other. Paul put his arms round Trevor,
who followed suit. They hugged.
"Thanks, Paul."
Over the next couple of weeks they talked more of those events years before. Paul asked questions. Trevor told him exactly how it had happened. Eventually Trevor found he could talk about it without feeling the pain, and without wanting to cry.
One evening towards the end of the two weeks, Paul had gone back to his room after their good night drink. Trevor sat in his chair and thought. He realised that he had told Paul about Fred, but there was much more in his story about Bill, and Len and Isaac that had not been told. He resolved to tell Paul everything.
He walked across the landing to Paul's rooms. Paul had sported his oak.[See footnote] But Trevor decided to break with convention and knocked on the outer door.
Paul in pyjamas came and opened the door. "I had just got into bed, Trev."
"I am sorry to disturb you so late. But there is more I need to tell you."
"Come on in. I'll put on my dressing gown, and we can talk."
They went into Paul's study.
"What more have you to tell me?"
"All I've told you about Fred and what happened is true, but there's a lot more to my story. My life got into really bad ways after the Fred episode. I was seduced by a man called Bill, and he acted as a pimp, and I worked for him."
"With men?"
Trevor hung his head and nodded.
"Trev!!"
"I only did it for a few weeks, and then I met Isaac."
"How did you come to meet him?"
"I was afraid you would ask that. But I will tell you the truth. If it ends our friendship.....I can't say, `well and good'. I shall be sad. But I will have to grin and bear it."
Trevor looked down at the carpet. "Isaac was a customer, a client. My pimp, Bill sent me to him."
"Trev!" Paul's mouth was open in astonishment. "Yet, you've stayed with him?"
Trevor nodded. "It was different with Isaac, almost from the word `go'. I went into his room and there was a map in the newspaper, and I've always been interested in maps. We started talking, and he showed me an atlas. He treated me as a human being, and not just as a lad he wanted to have sex with. As you know he is a refugee from Austria. He was lonely, and craving for affection. I was equally desperate for love. I suppose you can say we fell in love with each other. I know I did, and he says he did. I started staying for a night at weekends, and then for longer, and eventually my Mum allowed me to go and live with him. I had to promise to see her regularly and I visited her once a week until she died."
"Trev, do you and Isaac,.... still?"
"Yes." replied Trevor in a whisper. "Does that shock you?"
"It comes as a surprise. I suppose I am shocked, though I have known that there are men, boys who like doing things with boys or men. Some boys at Eton did things together. I know of several."
"Did you?" asked Trevor.
Paul shook his head. "Public School life is very artificial.
I have no sister, so I have met very few girls. A few older or younger sisters of school friends. Very, very few of my own age. To be quite honest I don't know how I would get on really meeting a girl socially, apart from at some party.
I have hardly ever been alone with a girl in a room. Usually someone else is present."
"I've not had much more experience of girls." said Trevor. "It is strange having girls in lectures, and so on up here." There was a moment or two of silence. "I'm glad I've got all that off my chest." He stood up to go.
Paul stood up, and came over and put both hands on Trevor's shoulders. He looked him in the eye. "Trevor, thank you for telling me all that. For me, it makes no difference to our friendship. In some ways I value your friendship even more. I respect you. For me all that is under the seal of the confessional," he added with a grin. "Oh and by the way,
I hope you'll come down to Winchfield in the Long Vac for at least a week." He pulled Trevor to him, and gave him a quick hug.
The friendship with Paul deepened during that summer term. They continued to talk through Trevor's early experiences. Paul shared something of the loneliness and home-sickness of life in a Preparatory School at the age of seven, and then Public School. Their early lives had been so different and each was interested in the other.
Trevor wondered that term if there was any possibility of a sexual friendship with Paul. He would have liked that, but he did not want to make a first move and risk the very satisfying relationship he already had. He decided that as Paul knew the truth about him, it would be up to Paul to make any possible first move.
Trevor became an enthusiastic oarsman. The end of the term saw Bumps Week. The river Cam is too narrow for boats to race side by side, so a great many years before an ingenious scheme had been devised. A number of boats rowed upstream with a boat's length between each boat. The aim was to bump into the boat ahead. The next day they raced again, only this time any boat that had been bumped was placed behind the boat that had caught up and bumped them. Whenever a boat was bumped both boats pulled into the side, both were out of the race for that day. Occasionally when a boat had bumped and both boats had pulled into the side, the boat behind succeeded in catching up the boat that had set out three places ahead. An over-bump was a great triumph, one boat moving up three places and another moving down three places. Many boats rowed the course and neither bumped or were bumped.
All the colleges had several boats, and the races were in divisions, The top boat in a lower division rowed in the bottom place in the next division, and the bottom boat in the higher division had to row in the first place in the lower division. The prize position was to be first in the top division. That was to be Head of the River. The college whose boat ended the week's racing as head of the river had a special feast in the college hall, and an old boat was burned in celebration.
Trevor was one of two first year men who were placed in Beaufort's third boat. They were bumped on the first day, and succeeded in getting their revenge on the third day. Otherwise his boat just rowed the course. Beaufort College regarded it as a good year as its boats had bumped more than they had been bumped.
The Revd Percival Crampton-Brown who had been on the tow path cheering each college boat personally went round and congratulated each and every college oarsman and cox. "Well done, Russell. I thought you'd make a good oarsman at your interview. You've not proved me wrong. I expect you'll be in the first boat next year. Another good year and it might be possible for us to become Head of the River. I want to see Beaufort Head of the River before I die. The last time was when I rowed, back before the First War."
The Long Vac was an exciting time for Trevor. He decided to work for four weeks and got a job with the building company that he had worked for a year earlier. Relations with Brian resumed the day after his return to Leytonstone.
When he finished working he went down to Winchfield. This time there was no nervousness. He was made welcome. Paul's father respected him as someone who had seen military action, and who, coming from a deprived background, had won a scholarship to Cambridge. Paul's mother regarded him as someone who had had a hard life, and needed the spoiling that only a woman can give. Both were pleased with their son's friend, and thought Trevor was good for Paul. Trevor valued the friendship and realised how much Paul was giving to him.
The long summer days meant they could be out and about a lot. Trevor did more horse riding. He had brought his bicycle and they went out exploring the countryside. They were also disciplined in their academic work, doing two hours reading each day. They often did this sprawled on the ground in the shade of a tree during the hottest part of the day.
It had been arranged that Isaac would come back to England for a week, bringing Heinie with him. Then Trevor would return with them both to Frankfurt for a further week. As the day approached for that part of the Vac. Trevor grew apprehensive. He wondered how he would be when he came face to face with Heinie.
There had been a lengthy correspondence between Frankfurt and Leytonstone about the sleeping arrangements. Trevor insisted that Heinie sleep with Isaac; after all Fergus had slept with Trevor on his visits to London. Trevor made one stipulation; that he was not kept awake by the creaking of the bed springs in the front bedroom. It was, after all, the same request that Isaac had made when Fergus came to stay.
Trevor decided that he would meet them off the boat train at Victoria Station. He did not tell Isaac of his plan. Trevor spotted Isaac getting off the train, and observed the smartly dressed blond young man who followed him - Heinie. He watched them walk towards the ticket barrier. As Isaac was not expecting to be met he did not see Trevor waiting at the barrier. Trevor was standing to one side, and he let them pass. He then came up on Isaac's side, "Good afternoon, Herr Rose. Have you had a good journey?"
Isaac put down the cases he was carrying. "Trev!" They flung their arms round each other, much to the surprise and consternation of people around. Such open demonstrations of affection between men( in public )were unheard of in the summer of 1954. Isaac then introduced Heinie to Trevor. The two younger men formally shook hands. They made their way down on to the Circle Line. It was the rush hour so they had to stand all the way to Liverpool Street, crushed closely with people returning home from work.
Trevor, speaking in German, asked Heinie about the journey. The use of German was overheard by a man nearby who muttered in Trevor's hearing words about Bloody Krauts!'. Trevor turned to the man and with his broadest cockney accent that could only have been acquired by years living in the East End said, "If you don't button up your bleedin' gob, you'll get my fuckin' fist up your perishin' ooter." The man stood open mouthed with surprise, while Isaac barely controlled his laughter. Heinie just did not understand what had happened. At Liverpool Street they changed on to the Central Line for the short journey out to Leytonstone. As they came out of the station Heinie looked around. It is about half a mile from the station to 37 Chelmsford Road.
Trevor had prepared a meal before leaving for Victoria. Once inside the house Isaac gave Trevor another hug. "Good to see you again, Trev." Trevor saw Heinie out of the corner of his eye, standing rather embarrassed not knowing what to do."
Conversation that evening was fairly easy. Isaac had told Trevor all about Heinie, and Heinie knew all about Trevor. At one stage Isaac went upstairs to do some unpacking.
"Trevor, are you sure that it's all right for me to sleep with Isaac. I don't mind sleeping alone, especially as this is your home."
"Isaac allowed me to sleep with my friends. So it is only fair for you to sleep with him. It would not be good for to you to be lonely at night while you are in England," added Trevor with one of his cheeky grins.
"Isaac has told me about you. You are very special to him. There is no way that I want to come between the two of you. I love Isaac. He has given me a lot of help, and taught me many things, but you are for him the number One, it is enough for me to be number Two."
"I must confess, Heinie, that I was a bit worried when Isaac told me about you. My head said it was fine, but my heart was uncertain. I am now happier about it all. I am glad that Isaac has got you in Germany. He has a great capacity to love. I have friends I love over here, it is right that he should have you over there."
At that moment Isaac came back into the room. He sensed from the silence that the two of them had been talking. "What have you two been talking about?"
"You, Isaac!"
"Oh, what about me?"
"We were discussing the inadequacies of your sexual techniques," said Trevor with a dead pan expression on his face.
"If you were not bigger and stronger than me, and were still the small urchin that once stood shivering on my doorstep, I'd put you across me knee, and spank your bare bottom."
"Oh yes, please! Any time."
Heinie looked on, totally amazed at this badinage, German humour being so different from the English.
When bed time came, Isaac and Heinie went into the front room, while Trevor went into his own room to sleep alone. Trevor lay awake for nearly an hour trying to think over what he felt about Heinie. He seemed to be a nice enough man.
Trevor had no difficulty with Heinie during the day. Isaac and Trevor took Heinie sight seeing in London. They got on well together. They talked and discussed. Trevor spoke of his experiences during the London blitz and these were compared with Heinie'sof being bombed by the RAF and the USAF. They shared their experiences as soldiers, fighting very different enemies in radically different surroundings. An alliance formed between Trevor and Heinie to tease Isaac, usually about his age, which, according to them, made him geriatric.
They toured the sights. They went round the Tower, visited St Paul's and Westminster Abbey. They went up the Monument. The went by boat down to Greenwich, and up the river to Kew Gardens. They also went to the Friday night Sir Henry Wood Promenade Concert in the Royal Albert Hall. It was a predominantely Beethoven evening. They heard the Violin Concerto and the Eighth Symphony, before hearing some Poulenc in the second half. On the way home they had a heated discussion about the merits of Richard Wagner, liked by the two youngsters, and detested for political as well as cultural reasons by Isaac.
It was the nights, especially those minutes before sleep that Trevor found difficult. He wondered what Isaac and Heinie were up to in the other room. He listened for noises, but heard nothing. He knew that he had no reason to feel bad. Isaac had allowed, even encouraged him, to sleep with Fergus when he had stayed. Isaac had known all about Con, and Brian.
It was wrong, unjust of him to feel in any way jealous. He spent several hours during the time of Heinie's stay lying awake, with his thoughts and feelings chasing around.
Heinie had to return to Germany several days before Isaac. That evening after they had eaten their meal, Isaac turned to Trevor. "What's the matter, Trev? You are not your usual self."
"I don't like me. That's the problem."
"Why?"
"It's all about you and Heinie."
"Oh!
"I don't like me, because there is a part of me that was resentful towards Heinie sleeping with you in our bed."
Isaac started to speak, but Trevor put his hand up to silence him.
"I know you suggested a different arrangement. It was I who rightly insisted that Heinie slept with you. I know how understanding you have been towards me with Con, Fergus, and Brian. I have absolutely no grounds for feeling bad. But the truth is, Isaac, there is a part of me that does feel bad. It is made worse by the fact that I like Heinie. He's a nice man. I think it would be easier if I did not like him, if I could hate him, but I can't."
Isaac reached across and rested his hand on Trevor's. "Poor old Trev. I'm sorry. I was afraid something like this might happen. You're number One for me, always will be. I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world."
"I know that, Isaac. I know how much I mean to you. I know you love me. I have no doubts on that score. I know you would not hurt me, but all that just makes me feel worse. The truth is I don't like me."
"But I do. As much now as ever. I'm glad you've told me. What do you want to do? Put me across your knee and spank me?"
Trevor gave a slight smile. "I think I want to be cuddled by you, and I want to cry."
"Where? Here?
"No where we have usually done most of our talking."
"We'll leave the washing up till the morning then."
They went upstairs. They undressed and stood looking at each other.
"I love you, Trev."
"I know that, and I love you too."
"Do you want me to give up seeing Heinie, Trev?"
He barely thought for a moment before answering. "No, Isaac, no. I've got to deal with myself."
They got into bed. They cuddled and Trevor cried. They talked. Very gently they made love, with Isaac sucking Trevor to his climax
The relationship between the two of them was never quite the same again. They still talked and argued together. They still frequently made love together. They both loved each other, but their relationship was slightly different.
Footnote:- Sporting one's oak. In many of the older colleges each undergraduate had two rooms, a study and a bedroom. When you stood outside a man's rooms you would be confronted by a single door, usually of oak. It it was shut the man was said to have sported his oak. Immediately inside this door you are confronted by two doors, often set at at an angle. One led into the bedroom, and the other into the study. The outer door was only shut [sported] when the undergraduate was away from his rooms, or when he did not want to be interrupted, because he was sleeping, studying or snogging. Paul's outer door was shut - his oak was sported. The fact that Trevor knocked on that outer door, and got Paul out of bed, was a considerable going against tradition and a presumption on friendship.