Countrymen

This story contains consenting sex between young boys, teenagers, and adult men. If it is illegal to read such material where you live, or you dislike such material, then surf elsewhere. All the characters are entirely fictitious, some of the places where incidents take place do exist.

Thanks to those who have communicated with me. I am realising from those who have contacted me that the majority of my readers do not live in the UK. To help with some of the background information I have provided some footnotes at the end of the section. If there are other matters that you would like explaining, or to discuss do feel free to get in contact. I believe I have replied to all who have done so. My email is jeffyrks@hotmail.com

Resume:- Phil, the narrator, is a man in his 60s has met Colin, and begun a sexual friendship with him. Colin is a member of a small gay group, called the Countrymen, and wants Phil to become a member. He has met two other members, Kevin a man in his 20s, who had a hard time at school, and Tom an older man, who spent all his working life as a farm labourer, and in a long standing relationship with Colin. Phil has arranged to spend a day out walking with Vic, who was also called Archie, or just Arch, the fourth member of the group.

The Countrymen Part 10

As I was comparatively new to Yorkshire Vic had decided where we should go for our walk. `I'll take you on one of my favourite walks,' he had said over the phone. We arranged to meet at the car park just outside the small village of Muker towards the top of Swaledale. We said that we would meet at 10.00am, this involved me leaving York shortly after 8.00am, as I was unsure how long the journey would take.

It was one of those wonderful late May mornings. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, and from early on there was a feeling of warmth in the air. It looked as though it was going to be the first really summer's day of the year. The trees were fully into leaf, and had not yet lost that bright fresh green, which gives way to the heavy darker green of the full summer. I enjoyed the drive, except for the stretch on the A1, which was as busy and full of lorries as ever. But I turned off the A1 just before Catterick, and the land began to rise as I approached the hills. The hedgerows, gave way to the dry stone walls that are such a feature of the Pennines. Then the road plunged down into Swaledale. This was new territory for me. Across the valley I saw the remains of Marrick Priory. On I drove through Grinton where I crossed over to the north side of the valley, and then through Reeth to Gunnerside. I knew that was the last village before Muker. The road took me back over to the south side of the valley again for nearly three miles, and then I saw the sign saying I was approaching Muker. The car park was easy to find, and I drove straight in. There was no other car there. I looked at my watch, it was 9.55am.

I got out of the car and stretched. The sun was warm, and the sky still the palest of blues. I got my boots out of the back of the car, and went to sit on the bench that is in the car park, and looked across the river Swale to the church and jumble of roofs that make up Muker.

It was about two minutes past ten when a battered landrover came tearing up the road, into the car park, where it stopped alongside my car. The door opened and out stepped a man. He looked in his early to mid forties, but I knew from Kevin he was about fifty. He was about three or four inches shorter than me. But whereas I am fairly slim, he was thick set. I think the words sturdy or stocky can best describe his physique. He was not in any way fat, but he had broad shoulders on him, and looked a powerful man. The first glance made me think of scrum half in rugby football; I later found that I was correct about that. He had brown hair, perhaps beginning to go grey, and a small patch where his hair was decidedly thin. He looked at me with a broad grin, "Phil, I presume. I'm Archie Montgomery-Owen." We shook hands. "Sorry I'm late. Last minute phone call."

We were both dressed in shorts, and his revealed a couple of strong muscular walking legs. He got his boots from the back of the landrover, and we both sat on the bench putting our boots on. Our talk while doing that, was about the weather and the journey and the traffic on the A1. Soon we were ready for off. Ruck sacs were swung onto our backs, and then we started walking. We went across the road bridge and up through the village of Muker.

As we walked through the village I asked the first question, "What is the difference between a vicar and a rector?" He laughed. `I wish I got paid for every time I got asked that question. The ancient historic difference goes back centuries. Rector's received all the tithes that were due to the them, vicar's received just the lesser tithes. Today that means some parishes have rectors and others vicars. Practically, there is no difference at all. We all get paid the same. At the end of the twentieth century they started making team ministries, and the head man was the team rector, and the others team vicars."

I thought I understood, so asked a second question, "I notice you have a hyphenated surname, how come?"

"How do you know that? Did that young whipper-snapper Kevin tell you?"

"No. I went and looked you up in Crockford's Clerical Directory. That told me all about you."

"I see. My surname goes back to my great grandfather, in the nineteenth century. He was called Horatio Montgomery. When he was a young, and very poor sub lieutenant in the Navy, he fell in love with the only daughter of an exceedingly wealthy industrialist, called Penelope Owen. Her father thought that Horatio was out to get his sticky hands on his daughter's money. He forbade them to see each other again. They refused and ran off together and got married. Great great grandfather Owen was furious, and stopped the allowance that he gave his daughter, and threatened to leave all his wealth to the nineteenth century equivalent of the Battersea Dog's Home. The married couple scraped along without two pennies to rub together. But then Horatio distinguished himself in a naval action in some far off corner of the Empire. He was the hero of the month. He was slightly wounded, but returned to Britain in glory. He timed his return well, for almost as his feet touched English soil at Plymouth, Penelope gave birth to a healthy son. In an attempt to butter up old man Owen they called the child Archibald, after the old man. The combination of a heroic son-in-law and a grandson named after him softened the old man up, and he restored and I believe increased the allowance to his daughter. Horatio came out of the navy, much to the disappointment of his side of the family, but set up in business, and he in turn made a fortune."

"And so you are named after your great great grandfather?"

"For my sins, yes. But on the Owen side of the family there are Archibalds stretching still further back."

"So there was a naval tradition in your family?"

"Still is, Phil. My father was in the navy. My brother is in the Navy. My sister is married to a naval officer. It used to be said of the Montgomeries that out of any six men, three would go into the navy, two into the army and one into the church. I have a brace of bishops in my Montgomery history, and a choir of Archdeacons."

"I thought it was a bench of bishops?"

"That is linguistically correct, but as there were only two of them in the family so I say they made a brace, like pheasants."

We laughed.

We started up the spur of Kisdon Hill, turning every so often to admire the view. We looked back down Swaledale, and down onto the small village of Muker.

"So when did it start for you?" asked Archie.

I told him briefly the early part of my story. "And when did it start for you?" I asked in return.

"Very early on. I was enjoying getting physically close to boys at a very early age. My first experience was one Christmas when I must have been about seven. We always spent Christmas in Wiltshire, at an aunt and uncles. They lived in Crippleshanks Manor, a large old house. There would be between twenty and thirty members of the family there."

"You certainly come from a large family!"

"Yes, the Montgomery-Owens are good breeders. Up until that Christmas I had always slept on a small made up bed in my parent's room, but that year my aunt decided that I should sleep in my cousin's room. He was about eighteen months older than me. He was the nearest cousin to me in age, and we'd always got on well. His bedroom was fairly big, and easily took a couple of beds. For the first two nights nothing happened. I slept in his bed, and he slept in the bed that had been brought in. The aunt said that my cousin, Chris, should give the bigger bed to me, as the guest. Chris always called me little cousin' because he was a couple of inches taller than me. I never caught him up, even when I was fully grown. On Christmas night, after all the excitement, we were late to bed, and lay in our beds talking. Eventually the house quietened down, as some of the adults played cards well into the early hours, and other like our parents went off to bed. Then Chris said, Little cousin, can I get into bed with you, this bed isn't very comfortable.' I said he could, and in he climbed. There was plenty of room for us. We continued talking softly to each other, mainly about the presents we had received, and also about our relations. There were so many of them they were an endless topic of conversation. Then completely out of the blue Chris asked, Does your dickie ever get hard?' Now getting a hard cock was something that was beginning to happen to me. So I said, Yes sometimes, does yours?' Yes,' he said, A lot. It is now.' I think I said something like is it really. Then he said, Would you like to feel it?' If you like,' was my reply. He got hold of my hand and placed it on his cock, which I could feel strong and hard through his pyjama trousers. Does yours get as hard as that?' he asked. Yes, its getting hard now.' He reached over and felt my cock. But he soon found the opening and put his hand in and grasped my cock."

"Did you like that?'

"I should say. We lay there just holding cocks for a while. I know,' said Chris, Let's put our cocks together.' So that's what we did. Two small prepubescent boys, lying close with their cocks together, but with their pyjamas still on."

"How bold of you!"

"The next night we got a little bolder, Chris suggested that we tried lying on top of each other. Still with our pyjamas on we did that, though our cocks were poking out of our pyjama openings. The final night we actually took off our pyjamas, tops as well as bottoms. We slept in the nude."

"How rash of you!' I said with a laugh, `And you enjoyed it?"

"I felt it was the naughtiest and yet the most enjoyable thing I had ever done in my whole life!"

We both laughed.

"We didn't sleep much that night, there was just a lot of cuddling."

"Any kissing?"

"No we regarded that as sissy and girlish. Boys who wanted to be considered men did not kiss anybody except mothers, grandmothers and of course the innumerable aunts."

"So that was how it started for you?"

"Yes, it was a wonderful experience, I thought about it a lot over the next twelve months. Though we met up for a few days in the summer, there was just no opportunity to find out whether Chris would want to do it again. In the September he started at a Prep School [See footnote at end] so I was very conscious that he becoming the bigger boy. Next Christmas we were back at Crippleshanks again. When we arrived my aunt said to me, Chris is insisting that you share a bedroom again, you don't have to, as there is a room you can have on your own.' I said I'd like to share. Sure enough the first night, while we were undressing, Chris said, Sleeping arrangements as last year?' I said Okay'. Then when I went to put my pyjamas on he said, Little cousin, what do you need those for?' I noticed that he already had a hard on as he climbed into bed. I've been wanting to do this all the year,' he said. So have I,' I replied. We had a good cuddle and a lot of rubbing cocks together. Then he told me a bit about his prep school, and about the boys showering all together. `Some of them have big cocks, and sometime they get quite stiff when under the shower. One or two of the older boys have got hair growing just above their dickies.' This was all new to me with my sheltered upbringing. We found that there were things we liked doing together, holding each others balls and stroking each others perineum, though we would not have known that word. It was the beginning of the discovery of erogenous zones."

"Did you kiss yet?"

"We were very slow getting into that. I kissed Chris first, got sort of carried away, and he was quite shocked. Then decided why not. And gave me one back. It was just peck kisses, nothing more."

"Was it same again the next Christmas?"

"Yes. But things had happened for both of us over the year. For me at the ripe age of eight and a half I started as a boarder at my Prep School, not the same one as Chris. His was some where down in the West Country and mine in Norfolk."

"Did you enjoy your prep School?"

"In some ways, yes; in others, no. The headmaster was a retired naval officer. One of the reasons why I was sent to that school. He was a bit of a sadist. Prone to loose his temper, and soundly beat boys. I was scared stiff of him. One eight year old boy received thirteen lashes with a cane on his bare buttocks for talking after lights out. Six or seven of the lashes drew blood. Marks were made by the other lashes. Fortunately I never got on the wrong side of the Head. Though I have an idea now, he would not have beaten me like that because he knew my Dad, and my parents were in this country. Poor young Wren, that was the boy's surname, his parents were in Singapore or somewhere. The other masters were alright. They all had their nicknames. Spitfire, Fungus were two of them. I did quite well at school. Academically the work came easily, and I enjoyed team sport, rugby and cricket. It was a small school, only about 45 boys. I soon experienced taking a shower with a lot of other lads. Immediately saw the difference between cut and uncut pricks. Though did not understand why for some time. They were all very small, except as Chris had said some of the older boys, all of the age of thirteen, had bigger ones, and that intriguing patch of hair."

"Did you have any close encounters of a sexual kind?"

"Yes. The school had been a small stately home. The original owning family had fallen on hard times. Death duties, heavy taxation during the war and such like. They had moved out and lived in the dower house, and let their original house to the school. The old bedrooms were dormitories. The one I was first in was a small one, and had only seven beds in it, four along one wall, and three and the door on the opposite side. The bed closest to the door was always the bed of the dorm prefect. He was an older boy and he was responsible for law and order. I slept in the bed next to him, the middle one of the three. The dorm prefect was a thirteen year old. We went to bed earlier than he did, we were seen into bed by the matron, she would see that we dealt with our clothes properly, putting out those to be washed, and getting others ready for the morning. Sometimes, if she was in a good mood, she would read us a story. Then she would say prayers, before going off to the next dormitory to do the same thing. The dorm prefect would then come in, undress and get into bed. I think he was supposed to say his own prayers! Then it was lights out. Sometime between a half hour to an hour later, matron or another member of staff, sometimes the head, would come round, and look in to make sure all was well."

"What was this dorm prefect like?"

"To me he was a big boy. Second or third night I watched him getting undressed. I was very close to him, so got a good view. He saw I was watching, and turned his back on me, but not before I got a glimpse of what seemed to me then a big dickie. I was still thinking in terms of that word. Now days, of course, children tend to call it their willie. Next night he had put his pyjamas on before he realised I had been watching him. When he went to turn out the light before getting into bed, he turned, looked at me and gave me a wink. Third night, he was much slower getting undressed, and gave me a full view of his equipment, it was a deliberate show for my benefit."

"What about the other guys in the dorm?"

"They were either already asleep, or reading a book. This show went on for several more nights. Then one day we met in one of the passage ways. He spoke to me, You enjoy watching me undress don't you?' I nodded. Well then, tonight, after final rounds, I am going to get into your bed! No shouting, or screaming. No talking even. And I will give you a nice time. Okay?' That night I watched him undress as usual, before turning off the light he looked at me, and jerking his head raised his eyebrows, as if to say, Are you ready for it?' I gave him a slight nod and smile in return. It seemed ages lying there trying to keep awake. Eventually the headmaster came round, opening the door and looking in. I immediately closed my eyes. The door shut and I heard his footsteps retreating. I lay there for what seemed a further age. Then I heard the prefect, Soames, was his surname. We only used surnames at that school. I heard Soames stir, and get out of bed. I felt his hand feel on the edge of my bed. He pulled open the covers, and climbed in. We had to lie close as they were single beds. He took hold of my hand and put it on his cock which was sticking hard out of his pyjamas. His hand then went searching my dick, which he found easily and was hard. We played with each other for a while. He turned so his mouth was very close to my ear. Like that? Want some more tomorrow?" I turned and whispered, `Yes, please.' he then went back to his own bed."

"I suppose that became a regular thing every night?"

"Most nights. Some nights Soames would drop off to sleep. If I went to sleep he'd wake me getting into my bed."

"Did any of the other boys realise what was going on?"

"Not as far as I know. Then there was one memorable night. We had found out how enjoyable it was for one to lie on top of the other, cocks together, pyjama trousers round our knees, and jackets undone. We'd been quietly rubbing ourselves together. He was on top of me. He began to move a lot more than usual, then his body went rigid, and his breathing deep. I felt his cock jerk, and then there was this hot wet feeling on my tummy. I thought for a moment he'd wee'd. But I knew that it was something different. There was a smell I'd not encountered before. He whispered in my ear, I think I've spunked over you.' What?' I asked. I didn't know anything about sperm, spunk or cum, whatever you're going to call it. He whispered again, `I'll get a hanky so you can mop yourself up. I'll tell you what it was in the morning.' He got out of bed, and in a few moments handed me a hanky. I mopped myself up, and eventually dropped off to sleep wondering what ever it was, and hoping it wasn't like blood, which would take some explaining."

"Did it leave a stain?"

"First thing in the morning I looked. There were some marks, but not too bad. We always made our own beds. Fortunately once a week we had to put out our dirty sheets, and collect cleaned ones to make our own beds. So those stained sheets got screwed up and put in the laundry basket with everybody else's."

"Did Soames explain?"

"Yes. Next morning during break, he took me on one side. Thanks for last night. I'll always remember you. That was my first time!' First time what?' I asked. I shot my load. I'm a man now!' he said. I don't understand,' I said. Don't you know about babies, where they come from, and so on?' he asked. Not really.' He took a deep breath. Well it's like this. To get a baby, a Father has to put his seed inside a Mother, and there it grows into a baby, and after nine months in the mother's tummy she pushes it out, and they have a baby boy or a baby girl. Didn't you know that?' No.' Haven't you any younger brothers or sisters?' Soames asked. Yes, a younger sister.' Didn't your mother get a big tummy before she was born?' I don't remember,' I replied, But how does the father put a seed in the mother.' I asked. Well, the father's dickie gets hard, like ours do, and he pokes it into a special hole between where she poohs and where she wees, then he does what I did last night, his dickie shoots out a lot of seed, called sperm, into the mother, and one of them grows and becomes a baby, like a seed planted in the ground. Sometimes two grow and they are twins.' So I was told the reproductive facts of life. It may have been a couple of centuries out of date in some respects, but at least it wasn't about gooseberry bushes or storks."

We laughed at the simplicities of childhood. The track on which we were walking became a grassy path, and the slope began to ease as we approached the rounded summit of Kisdon Hill. We stood and admired the view, before beginning to walk down towards Keld. We looked down into the valley on the scattered farmsteads with their nearby sycamore trees, that make up the community of Angram. The path steadily became a more defined track as it cut down the hillside, with steeper ground to our left, and occasional small crags to our right.

"So how long did your relationship with Soames last?"

"Just the one term. He was now cumming regularly, he would come into a bed with a couple of hankies for the mopping up afterwards. One night, he got into bed, and whispered in my ear, `Keep still, I am going to give you a treat.' He wriggled down the bed. I wondered what ever was going to happen. I felt his hand feeling for my cock, and then holding it he moved some more. Suddenly there was this wonderful warm wet feeling all over my cock. I was receiving my first blow job. It was wonderful. Sometimes we would lie face to face, but also I would lie face down and he would put his cock between my buttocks and cum that way. There was no thought of penetration."

"Which way did you prefer?"

"I liked both ways. Both had their good points."

"So it only lasted one term?"

"Yes. Then there were the Christmas holidays. I couldn't wait to tell cousin Chris what had happened. It was Christmas at Crippleshanks as usual. I think we surprised the adults by going to bed early that first night. We only needed to be told to go to bed the once, not the usual three or four times. We rushed up stairs, and into bed."

"Naked?"

"Of course. We both had a lot to tell each other. I told him all that had happened with Soames. He too had had a good term. He had discovered the delights of blow jobs. He also thought he was beginning to get some pubic hair. I looked hard, and maybe there was! We were both still pre-puberty, but getting closer. I realised that he was eighteen months older than me, and was likely to get to that important stage before me. But for that Christmas it was a lot more of everything."

"What happened when you went back to school?"

"The next two terms were totally inactive. There was a new dorm prefect, and he caught me looking at him. He was angry. If you look at me again when I am undressing I'll report you to the head!' After that he only saw the back of my head when he was undressing. I missed my sessions with Soames. He was busy with Common Entrance, [See footnote at end]. He always gave me a conspiratorial grin. Sometimes he would whisper, Miss you'. I certainly missed him. The summer holidays came and went. Then in September it was back to school. I was now no longer a new boy, I was in a different dormitory. I was given a bed in the corner, well away from the door. Nothing happened that term either. Then it was Christmas. I was ten, and Chris was twelve, and yes there was now an undeniable trace of pubic hair. It was as before. It was recognised by everybody that we were good friends as well as just cousins. Chris's mother made the suggestion that as we got on so well, I should come and stay at Crippleshanks in the summer. So in January 1960 it was back to school again. Someone in my year left, and there was a new boy in our year, so there was a shifting round of sleeping. I still had my bed in the corner, but another boy was next to me. On the second night we were alone together in the washroom cleaning our teeth. I gather we have something important in common,' he said. What's that?' I expected him to say something like a father in the navy, but instead he said softly, Soames.' Soames?' I replied. Yea, I was in his dorm at one stage last year, and he used to come into my bed. He told me that he first shot his load all over you. I miss him. Can I come into your bed? Though I don't cum like him yet.' Okay, if you're quiet.' `Like it was with Soames?' I nodded. It was safer in my bed, as I was in the corner, and we didn't do it as often as we both had done with Soames. We both went off to sleep too often before final rounds. We just fiddled and played with each other's cocks, and cuddled. It was just nice. It somehow helped the loneliness and lack of physical affection at Prep School. So the years went by. Chris always eighteen months ahead. He passed Common Entrance and went off to Public School. He had a lot to tell that Christmas. I did well at school. Always at the top of the form, quite good at sport. Sometimes with sexual activity, sometimes not. I took my Common Entrance and passed, and was all set for Public School."

"I suppose that marked a big change?"

"Yes, but something else happened during the summer holidays that was important. My part of the family lived in a late Victorian House set in its own grounds, in the Essex countryside. We were about a mile from the Blackwater estuary, near a village called Silverhanger. Do you know that part of the world?"

"No not at all."

"It is very flat. The Blackwater estuary fills with tidal water from the North Sea twice a day, otherwise most of it is just mud. The sea is kept off the land by a sea wall. There was one place down a track where there was some sand and it was possible to go for a swim for an hour either side of high tide. It is a landscape of flat fields, and broad skies. Our house was set in its own grounds. My father had bought it when I was young. My parents believed in giving their children a firm home base, and not travel around to all the places to which my father was posted. Also it was possible for him to live at home if and when he was posted to serve at the Admiralty in London, which he could expect to do in the course of a naval career. We had an old man, we always thought of him as ancient, but he was probably younger than I am now, who was the gardener. He was called Charlie. But in the summer he needed help with the grass cutting. In the late winter he would ask my father if he wanted him to find a boy to help with the grass. He would then find a lad in his late teens, possibly still at school, who jumped at the chance to earn some extra money cutting our grass. So a boy from the village was found. This lad was always refered to as `the boy'. The boy that year was called Bobby. I had been very keen on cricket that last summer term at prep school, and I persuaded my father to set out some nets where we could practise cricket. Often on a summer evening Dad and I would take a turn in the nets with bat and ball. It was one of the few times when I did anything alone with my father.

"I was discouraged from making friends with boys from the village. I might pick up their terrible Essex accents, and that would not do! My nearest acceptable, and correctly spoken, friend lived four or five miles away, and we would cycle over to one or another's house for an afternoon together about once or twice a week. One afternoon this friend had come over and we were in the nets, taking turns with the bat and the ball. Bobby was cutting the grass. He kept coming over and watching us for a few minutes. Do you play cricket?' I asked. Yep, I play for the village.' Do you bowl or bat?' asked my friend. Bit of both.' was the answer. Come and give us a bowl then,' I invited. He was quite good. Certainly tested our batting. When he had a turn with the bat he slogged our bowling all over the place. Then my friend had to go home as it was beginning to look like rain. Bobby said that he had to get on with the grass, as he wanted to finish cutting it before it started to rain. I managed to persuade him to bowl a few balls at me. He kept on getting me foxed. I would play at a ball, expecting a leg break, and instead it would be an off break. You can't spot my googly [See note at end] can you?' he said. But before he could get back to his grass cutting it began to rain. He ran off to get the mower put away, and I grabbed the stumps, bat and ball. It was a sudden heavy downpour of rain. The nearest shelter was the outhouse where the mower and other garden equipment was kept. We both ran there, both rather wet. We stood there with the water dripping down over our faces from our hair, but laughing.

"Well, you know what often happens when you're rather wet, and there is the sound of water, pouring off the roof and gurgling down the drain. You want to have a piss. I was desperate. But I knew if I went outside to pee I'd get soaked. I need a pee,' I said, and I'll get soaked if I go out in the rain.' Just do it out of the door,' said Bobby. It was a sensible suggestion; but suddenly I was shy and I didn't want Bobby to see my cock. It was not to be seen by a village boy! Anyway, I went to the door, and got my cock out, and with all the force I could muster added to the torrent outside. I pulled my cock firmly back into the safe seclusion of my trousers, before turning round to face Bobby. He was standing there laughing quietly, You shy, or summat?' I did not reply. Fraid I'll see you prick?' There was a short silence. I've got un too, you know.' Another pause. I'd show you mine, if you wanted to see it.' I looked at him in the face. Go on then. Show me yours,' I said. He promptly undid his trousers, and pulled out his cock. To me it seems huge. Far bigger than mine, and mine was as big as any I'd seen at school, and Chris's was not much bigger. It was uncut, and most of the boys at school were circumcised. Soames, Chris and the other guys at school I'd played around with had all been cut. Bobby's cock was thick at the base, and in its flaccid state, the foreskin tapered towards the tip. At the end there was the hole through which he would piss. As I watched his penis began to move, it thickened, hardened and grew. I watched as the head of his cock emerged into the light of day. I watched it spell bound. Now I've shown you mine, show me your un,' asked Bobby. Slowly, I got mine out. He moved closer and reached out and took mine in his hand. Do you cum yet?' asked Bobby. No, not yet.' He felt my cock, and balls, and the hair which I was beginning to acquire in that pubic region. Any day now I'd think.' Both our cocks were hard by now. I took hold of his. It seemed a real handful, and was warm, and had that hard and soft at the same time feeling that even the most hardened cocks seems to have when you hold them. That's nice,' said Bobby and he pulled me close to him. Our cocks came together. That's very nice,' said Bobby. Then to my surprise he gave me a kiss, but this was unlike any kiss I'd experienced before, he nibbled at my lips, and I felt his tongue going between my lips. When I opened my mouth, his tongue slipped in and felt my tongue. Like that, young master?' he asked. I nodded. There's lot of good things two young men like us can do. ave you done anything like this afore?' he asked. Yes,' I replied, I have done quite a lot with my cousin, and with some of the boys at school.' Have you done this afore?' he asked, going down on his knees and putting his mouth to my cock. Yes,' I replied, Its great, you do it nice.' Ave you been fucked?' he asked. How do you mean?' I said. 'Ave you ad a cock up your arse?' No. Doesn't it hurt?' I said rather frightened at the prospect. Does a bit. Specially first time. But its great. I like being fucked by a man, and I like fucking.' said Bobby enthusiastically. He went back to attending to my cock. He licked it, he kissed it, and he sucked it. With his finger he stroked my balls. Take your trousers down, so I can do it proper.' I took my trousers down, and he resumed his attention, and this time one hand was at my balls, and his other hand was feeling my buttocks and his fingers beginning to feel around. I had not realised how sensitive that part of me was, and how arousing it was. My cock seemed harder than ever. He continued for a while, and then he got up. Would you like to suck at me, or just tossed me off?' Slowly I sank down on to my knees. His cock seemed larger than ever. I put the helmet to my lips and kissed it, and then opened my mouth and sucked it in. Good lad! That's great.' I had only sucked for a few minutes, and he pulled me to my feet, I'm going to cum,' he said. He wanked at his cock, and suddenly out shot a great jet of white thick spunk. It lay on the ground like a dollop of whipped cream. Bobby grinned at me. That was good, young Archie.' We pulled our trousers up, and made ourselves presentable. Would you like to do that again?' Yes. Tomorrow?' `Can't be, I don't come here tomorrow. But the day after?' To say that I looked forward to the day after was the understatement of the year."

"So that was the beginning of something?"

"I should say. The next time Bobby came was the Friday afternoon. Charlie also came in on Fridays, and I reckoned that that might make things difficult. Soon after I heard the mower at work cutting the lawns, I went out, and went over to speak to Bobby. How are you today, young Archie? You okay after Wednesday?' Yes, Bobby. Can we do it again?' Good, I'd hoped you say that. We can't do anything while old Charlie is around, but once he's gone! I've been thinking. We needed somewhere safer. What about the old pig sties?' No one goes there now. Okay then, about 5.30 see you there.' I went back into the house, and he restarted the mower, and soon he was making those marvellous straight lines on the newly cut lawn. I need to explain a little about the lay out of the grounds of our house at Silverhanger. The house stood in several acres of land. Some of it was garden. Then there was a thick patch of scrubby woodland. Then beyond that were the old pig sties. A previous owner had kept pigs, but had sited the sties as far from the house as he could for olfactory reasons. The main access was up an overgrown track which came off the lane. The sties had fallen into disuse, the whole area was over grown with nettles and brambles, they were very very rarely visited by anyone."

"Except at 5.30pm that Friday afternoon."

"Just after 5.00 I saw Charlie put his tools away, and get on his bike to cycle home. Bobby continued cutting the grass for another quarter of an hour. Then he too got his bike and appeared to go home. I slipped out of the house, through the woods, and pushed a way through the nettles and under undergrowth to the sties. I soon saw Bobby waiting there. When he saw me, he went into one of the old sties. We could just stand up in it. This'll do' he said. The floor was still solid, so no plants had grown up inside, it was just very dusty, and seemed to have a considerable population of spiders. But they didn't worry us. Let me see you without any clothes on,' said Bobby. If you do the same,' I replied. we both undressed, watching each other. The only things we kept on were shoes and socks. Bobby was eighteen or nineteen. He had a strong muscular body, much of it brown where the sun had got to it, only his equatorial regions were paler, and they looked as though they had seen some sun. On his chest was quite a patch of dark hair. You're a good looking lad,' he said, You've got a lovely bum. Come ere and let me get my hands on you.' I stepped closer, and he pulled me to him, I felt our hardened cocks pressing into each other. I just put my hands round him, but his hands went down and felt my buttocks. Then he started kissing me. This time I was ready, and responded. Just feeling him close to me was the most wonderful feeling. Archie, I want to put my prick up your bum!' It was expressed so crudely, and yet with a tenderness in his voice. Won't it hurt?' I asked. If you'll let me, I'll be as gentle as I can. I'll stop whenever you want, and then we could try to get a bit further another time. I don't want to urt you.' Your cock is so big,' I said, while my hand played with it. I knelt down and kissed it and took it again into my mouth. I stood up, now resolved, Okay. We'll try, but promise to stop if I say so.' I promise.' He fished into his pocket and got out a jar of hair cream. This'll ave to do,' he said. Bend over and I'll get you ready,' I leant against a wall bending slightly forward. He got a dollop of hair cream on his fingers, and began to apply it to my bum. It felt cold, and I must have tightened up. Try to relax. I am going to put a finger in.' His finger circled my anus, and I found how enjoyable it was, and I felt the tension go out of my muscles. Good lad, that's the idea,' said Bobby. Then his finger began to push, and slowly he got it in. Any pain was minimal. I'm going to try and get two fingers in,' he said. This time it did hurt a bit, but he took it slowly, and suddenly I felt the two finger go in. That's great. You're doing well Arch. You've got a wonderful bum, I love it.' I felt him start kissing my buttocks. He started parting his fingers, gently widening the access. What I did not see, was that he was also applying hair cream to his cock. I felt his fingers come out, and almost immediately I felt something different pressing into me. It felt hard, but smooth, there were no finger nails, though it was of course thicker than his fingers. It hurt a bit, and then I felt it sliding into me, slowly bit by bit all his wondrous huge cock entered me. I then felt his hairs against my bum, and his stomach against my buttocks and lower back. He was fully in. He stayed still. How's that, Archie?' I think I like it,' I said.

Archie and I laughed.

"And you have liked it ever since?"

"Yes, in that grotty sty down in Essex I had that first defining experience. `You've got a lovely young body, Arch,' he said, running his hands over my front, and feeling my cock. He began to move his cock inside me. The sensations increased. He wanked at my cock a little, and then put his hands on my hips and began to thrust in and out. I am not sure to this day the exact sequence of events. I had this most incredible feeling all over, my legs went weak. The sensation centred into my groin, and then into my cock. I felt it jerk, and when I looked down I saw a jet of spunk shoot out onto the floor. Whether Bobby's cuming triggered mine, or mine triggered his I do not know. I nearly passed out. He was holding me up kissing my neck, and muttering words of endearment, mingled with kisses into my neck."

"What a first time!"

"True, what a first time! I felt his cock go limp and it slipped out, he turned me round, and we kissed and just delighted in the feel of each other. You're a wonderful lad, Archie. It don't come much better than that.' And I came too!' said proudly. Yes, You cummed too, I said you'd be cuming any day. Today's the day. Remember it, the date 30th July 1963, and it were with Bobby Emory, a lad from the village.' When will I be able to cum again?' I asked eager to repeat the sensation. I reckon you could wank yourself off tomorrow alright. Soon you'll be able to do it three or four times a day.' Do you? That often?' I asked. Sometimes.' Can I put my cock up you sometime?' Yes, I'd like that. Then we can have some real good times together, enjoying each other both ways. I had a further question, I do know the facts of life, at least most of them. But is a man like a woman?' In what way?' asked Bobby, with a puzzled look on his face. Well my mother was telling me the other day she could no longer have any more babies, because of her age, and not producing any more eggs, or ova, she called it. Does a man stop producing seed.' Sometimes, through being ill, or just generally unwell, or I think just by letting all this gear,' he touched my cock and balls, fall into disuse. There was one old guy at the pub the other night, he's over 80 saying that he could still father a child if he wanted to, because he could still shoot a load. If a married guy can still fuck his wife at 80, why shouldn't a guy who likes men not still be able to have sex with another man?' I don't know I'd want to do it with a man as old as that,' I said. Bobby laughed, But when you're 80 you might like to do it with a guy of similar age.' I thought I might if I got to that age, but of course, when you are about fourteen you never think you're going to get old."

"Were you able to see much of each other that holiday?"

"I should say. It was marvellous. I was old enough to get out and do things by myself. On the Saturday afternoon I cycled down to the village cricket ground, and watched the cricket. Bobby did a lot of bowling. His googlies were highly successful in getting out several of the other side's batsmen. In the tea interval, he came along to me with his plate of sandwiches and glass of lemonade. You alright?' he asked. A little sore,' I replied. That'll soon go.' Then I asked him if he'd show me how to bowl a googly. I'll try, but not everyone can bowl a good googly. I try to show you on Monday. But same time, same place, for some fun?' `I'll be there,' I assured him."

"What exactly is a googly?" I asked, not being well up in cricketing terminology.

"A googly is an off break bowled with a leg break action. Many batsmen watch the bowler's hand and think that a leg break is coming down, and play the ball accordingly. They expect it to bounce one way, but when it bounces the other way they are liable to miss it, in which case it may hit the stumps, or they snick it and give a catch to the wicketkeeper or to the slips."

"Did he teach you?"

"Yes, very well. I played a lot of cricket over the years, and took a lot of wickets with my googly. Another cause for me to remember Bobby. On Tuesday evening I dragged my father out to the nets. To his surprise I let him bat. I bowled three orthodox legs breaks, and then sent down a googly. He missed it completely. He just went and patted the ground where the ball had bounced, thinking it was caused by unevenness in the ground. After a couple more leg breaks I sent down another googly, and bowled him, middle stump. Was that intended?' he asked. Yes,' I replied with a triumphant grin. It was a googly then?' Yes,' I said, jumping up and down with excitement. Who taught you how to bowl googlies?' he asked. Bobby.' Who on earth is Bobby?' Bobby is the boy. You know the village lad who cuts the grass.' He plays cricket then?' Yes, for the village, I saw him take some wickets at the match on Saturday.' We continued to practise for sometime and he seemed completely unable to spot my googly, much to my triumphant delight.

"Dad was working in this country at that time. On Wednesday he came back early. I had my friend round, and we were in the nets. Bobby was cutting the grass, and kept breaking off doing that to bowl a few balls. Dad came out to join us. He went over to Bobby, and talked to him for about a quarter of an hour, and then got his wallet out, and handed Bobby something. Then Bobby came over and the four of us had a good time bowling and batting together. Bobby's googlies fixed Dad good and proper. That little incident opened up a whole new horizon. Over dinner that night my father told my mother about Bobby, how he'd taught me how to bowl googlies. That led to the usual extremely lengthy explanations of cricket to my mother. Why is cricket a game that so many women find impossible to understand? Anyway from that day on Bobby was regarded as completely persona grata in the family. I was even encouraged to be with him. He was deemed to be a good influence. I was allowed to go off swimming and such like with him, but with a double instruction not to pester him, as he was older than me, and not to pick up his dreadful accent."

"Do you know what your father gave Bobby?"

"Yes, he gave him a fiver [£5] for teaching me how to bowl googlies. When Bobby told me that, I said he ought to have paid him much more for teaching me to cum, to fuck and a whole lot of other things."

"It sounds as though you had a great summer?"

"Bo bby didn't mind being pestered. A couple of days later, when I went round to the sty to meet up with him, I found him stark naked lying on a mattress. Where did that come from?' I asked. A neighbour was wanting to get rid of it. I said I'd take it to the dump for her. I thought we could use it here.' By the time he'd finished saying that I'd stripped off and we were lying down on the mattress together. Much better, in every way. Often we went swimming, catching the tide when it was in. Often we were there alone, and we'd swim in the nude. Afterwards as the tide went out, out cocks would come up, and in a thick patch of reeds, cocks would be going in and out faster than any tide. There was something wonderful about those occasions in the open air. Our bodies still had the tang of salt on them from swimming in the sea. The sun dried us, and warmed us. We could lie on our towels, and just enjoy looking at each other, touching each other. We spent long periods sucking each others cocks. I got to know every bit of his body, especially that wonderful central region of a man's body. Bobby liked to kiss me all over. He would mutter endearments all the time, saying how much each part of my anatomy turned him on. But it was not all sex, he took me along to the village green where the local team played and practised. I joined in the practise, so that the next summer I played a few games with the village."

"Did your relationship with Bobby go on?"

"A little. Most of the Christmas holiday we were away. Crippleshanks as usual. Easter we were both around for about four days, and had one quick time together in the sty, but it was a bitterly cold day, with the wind straight off the sea. The mattress was too damp to lie on; so it was not as could as both of would've liked. The following summer we were around at the same time for about a week. After that he moved away. His mother moved into Colchester, and I lost track of him. I've often wondered how he got on."

By this stage the track Archie and I were on turned to the left to cross a small stream, the map calls it the Skeb Skeugh. Then up to the road and a right turn towards Keld. For a while we walked in silence. In Keld Archie took me into the small United Reform Church. It had been built in the 18th Century. Very small and full of pews. There was even a small gallery. Then further down to the small square, and there we went over to a farmhouse and enjoyed some coffee.

After a quick look at Catrake Force, a waterfall, we went off following the Swale for a short distance, before crossing it. We didn't follow the Pennine Way [See footnote] further north, but went south east on a track that climbed steadily above the river.

I asked the question to get Archie's story going again. "So after that summer with Bobby, it was to a new school?"

"Marlanton is situated in the midlands. It is a typical English Public School. A Victorian foundation, with largely Victorian buildings, with Victorian plumbing and heating."

"Spartan?"

"In some ways, yes. My father had been there, so that is why I was sent there. I enjoyed my school days. They say they are the happiest days of your life, perhaps they are."

"They weren't for Kevin!"

"No. He had a grim time. But I was fortunate. I was good academically, no problems on that score. I was good at rugger and cricket, so I was not regarded just as a swat, or as a weed. I believe that word has largely fallen into disuse, now it is wimp. I was no wimp, too much built like a tank, even in my teens."

"And sex?" I asked.

"Oh, plenty of that. A community of boys secluded from females, newly into puberty. There was masses of testosterone flying around. It was wonderful."

"Straight away?"

"Second day. The old system of fagging, whereby a new boy is a sort of servant to a monitor had almost, but not quite passed away. Monitors, or mons as we usually called them, were the very senior boys in the school. I was to fag Sam. He was an Indian, South Indian, so he was very dark. His name was multisyallabic, hence the abbreviation to Sam. I think that was the last syllable. He was the third generation of Sams at the school. He came from one of those princely families, that had at one time ruled some small state in the subcontinent. I knew that a lot, even in those more enlightened days, could depend on how you got on with your mon. I remember coming into his room, and seeing him standing there. He was not very tall, but he was very dark, brown eyes, and jet black hair. So I've got to put up with you?' was his greeting. Yes, sir.!' You don't need to call me sir, my name is Sam. A shorter form of my surname, its not my forename. What do you call yourself?' he asked. My name is Archibald Montgomery-Owen.' What a bloody mouthful. What are you usually called?' he asked. Arch, Mont or Monty.' I shall call you Monty.' He looked at me carefully, surveying me from head to foot. It is said that there are two sorts of monitors, we are either sadists or sex maniacs. Which would you like me to be?' I was silent. Answer me, Monty?' I would certainly prefer you not to be a sadist.' I did not dare say that a sex maniac sounded more interesting. You will be relieved to know that I am not a sadist. I do not enjoy afflicting pain, even on young boys.' He walked over to the door and locked it. Let me have a proper look at you, Monty. Undress.' I looked at him with some surprise. Yes, I said, undress.' I stripped off until I stood before him in pants and socks. I said undress. I want to see all of you.' I took off my socks, and rather reluctantly lowered my pants. That's better,' said Sam. He walked up to me, and ran his hand down my back. I found it arousing, and felt my penis stir. Does the feel of a brown hand on your white skin offend you?' No, Sam,' I answered. His hand cupped my buttocks, and my hardening cock was obvious for him to see. I see you like that. Does the thought of a dark Indian penis penetrating your soft white posterior repulse you?' he asked. No Sam.' I replied. he felt my cock and balls. If then you are telling me the truth, then I think we are going to get on well. very well indeed.' He walked round me a couple of times. Your first task this afternoon is to undress me.' I undressed him, when he was standing dressed only in some blue underpants, I felt his cock. I didn't tell you to fondle my cock. Not yet, anyway.' I pulled his pants down, and put them on one side. He was almost completely hairless. Just a small patch of pubic hair, and some under his arms, but none elsewhere on his body. Yet he had a prolific mass off wavy black hair on his head. His uncut cock was standing out proudly from his body. He had a large foreskin, so that even when erect only the tip of the helmet was visible, unless you pulled the skin back. Then a glistening mixture of purple and black was revealed. It was a fascinating colour."

"That all sounds very sudden. Almost unbelievable."

"Said like I have so far told it, it sounds like it. It certainly seemed utterly beyond comprehension to me when it happened. It came very easy to understand shortly after. Anyway, he continued to look at and feel me. Then he said, I want to fuck you, Monty. Have you been fucked before?' I nodded. Recently?' Yes, very recently,' I answered. When exactly?' Sam asked. The day before yesterday.' It had been my final glorious session with Bobby, prolonged and tearful, on both sides, at our parting. Sam went and got a jar with some lubricant in it. Prepare yourself, and then get on the table. On your back, legs raised.' I did so, while he prepared himself. With the oil on his cock, it shone like a highly polished stick of hard wood. He approached me, and I felt his cock against my puckered entrance. Then he pushed , and in one steady movement he was fully in me. He smiled. I thought you would like it. We are going to get on well together.' Why did you think I would like it,' I asked. A little bird told me about you,' said Sam. A little bird?' Do you remember Garry Soames?' he asked. Was at my prep school?' Yes, he told me all about the two of you. He reckoned that by now you'd have graduated to better things, like this. So I made sure that you became my fag.' How do you know Soames?' I asked. I stay in this country for the Christmas and Easter holidays, and he lives near where I stay,' answered Sam. Do you and Soames...?' Yes, a lot. He remembers one night in your bed especially.' So do I,' I replied with a grin. Sam smiled back at me, and bent over between my open legs, and gave me a kiss, the first of a great many.

He continued with a steady action to pump into me. I was getting very roused. Then I saw a sweat break out all over him. He pumped harder, and then I felt a gush of hot spunk deposited deep within me. He stopped moving, and then took hold of my cock. He only had to wank it two or three times before my spunk was shooting out on to my chest. Sam grinned at me. `That was good. Very good. I hope we do it often. I'll even allow you to fuck me, if you are very good.'

As we cleaned ourselves up and got dressed he continued talking. In the good old days, before you Brits came to India, my forebears ruled, and did what they liked. In my family palace there were two harems. One for the women, and one for the men and the boys. If the ruling prince preferred boys he kept those to himself, but allowed friends to have their way with the women. Then you Brits came and interfered. Some captain in the John Company's [See footnote 3] army learnt that my great great great grandfather had got an East India Company merchant to bring out a white boy for him. This captain came and freed most of the boys in the harem. I say most because he kept some, the most beautiful ones for himself, including the poor white lad. He kept them in far far worse conditions than that of the palace. You Brits interfered far too much world wide when you had your Empire. You know why you had an Empire on which the sun never set, don't you?' No, I don't' I answered. It was because God couldn't trust a Brit in the dark!!' He laughed, I just smiled. But at least you Brits gave us railways and cricket before your Imperial wings were clipped. Now it is your English speaking cousins who do the interfering, and what have they given us - Macdonalds and Coca Cola!! We Indians were civilised when you were running around daubed in woad. Still I mustn't grumble, there is a nice English bum here for me to fuck, and a nice English cock for me to play with."

"And presumably he did?"

"Yes, we had a wonderful year with a lot of action together."

The path did a couple of bends to gain some height. Where it crossed the bed of a small, almost dry stream, Archie led the way up the side valley. We went on to the top of Beldi Hill, where we admired the view of Upper Swaledale. Archie pointed out the next stage of our walk. We did not follow the Coast to Coast path, as Archie wanted to make our walk path more interesting. We cut down a track towards the bend in the River Swale.

"Did you have a lot of sexual activity at school?" I asked.

"For that first year I was more that fulfilled with what I was getting with Sam. I think we were both insatiable. I think it was more or less every day, except for when he had a bout of `flu after Christmas, I injured a leg and was in the Sickers for a couple of days. Phil, I think it is true to say that, with one notable exception, I have always had several sessions with any guy I have had sex with. I am not one for one night stands, and cruising to get a guy I've never done."

"What happened after Sam left school? Which I presume he did after your first year."

"There were three or four guys in my year who used to go together at times. Almost forerunners of the Countrymen. I soon found that my strong point at school was languages. I did Latin, and even a little Greek, but I especially liked and was good at French and German. It was arranged that I did a holiday exchange with a guy from France, to help me with my French accent and so on."

"And I suppose you soon had him?"

"No, he was a dead loss. Totally into girls. Every girl was eyed up and down, and he loved to talk about girls he had screwed. Walking down the streets of his small town, a girl would pass and he'd whisper, I've had her,' she likes her tits sucked,' or `I tried to get her, but she's a frigid bird.' I tried, but it was hopeless. That is the story of my live. Times of feverish sexual action followed by periods of total abstinence."

"Poor, old you," I said, and put my arm round him. Arch responded by giving one of my buttocks and gentle squeeze. From then on we walked more closely together.

"At that stage my life was mapped out for me."

"Royal Navy?"

"Yes, I was to follow the family tradition and go into the Royal Navy. As I was good at languages the plan was for me to study modern languages at University. That is always a good qualification for the services, and can lead into the intelligence side of things. I knew that the family tradition in the Navy set me a high target at which to aim."

"Nothing less than an admiral?"

"Nothing less. I was beginning to think of myself as gay. I thought my sexual orientation might be a problem. Fortunately it was only later I realised how much of a problem it would have been. There is one thing I must tell you about. I was all set to go up to Cambridge to read Modern Languages at Queens' in October `68. But that summer Dad was in the U.K. and it was decided we would have a family holiday in France. We were to rent a place down in the Dordogne. I don't think I have told you about my family. I have a sister, five years younger than me, and a brother ten years younger. When you are eighteen you do not have much in common with a thirteen year old sister, and an eight year old brother. When I left school early in July Dad gave me permission to get a car. I had already passed my test. After much persuading I got him to agree to let me take my own car to France. He agreed on condition that we all drove down in convoy. In some ways it made travelling much easier, rather than five of us in the family car, we could spread ourselves out more in two cars. Before going to France I played a couple of games of cricket with the village team."

"Googlies still working?"

"Very much so. Some cricket coaching from a pro at school, had improved both my bowling and batting a great deal. So off we went for the whole of August. The place we had was great. In its own grounds, swimming pool, tennis court and so on. But I was soon rather bored, I went with the family on some of their trips, but I wanted to find out things for myself. I spoke French very well, I was sometimes taken for a native. So off I went."

"And?"

"Well, I did quite a bit of walking. On one or two occasions Dad came with me, but most times I was on my own. Don't think I cut myself off from the family, there was a lot of swimming in the pool. A lot of tennis. I spent quite a time teaching my brother and sister how to play. Dad and I played a lot, usually at least one set each day. There was some needle in our games. I had just begun to take the odd set off him; and he was as eager to show that he could still beat me as I was to show that my success was not a fluke. Anyway, one day I had ventured further afield and gone to look round Montaubon, which was some was from where we were staying the other side of Cahors. I must admit that I was feeling randy. I was really missing have some action with the lads at school. I suppose I was looking for it. I was wandering round, and I suppose some sixth sense led me to spot a cafe in one of the back streets. I knew I did not look like a tourist, and not particularly English. I knew that my French was good enough for me to pass as a Frenchman, though not from those parts. I went in and ordered a drink. There were about twenty men in there, nothing unduly surprising in that. A silence fell as I went in, and I felt myself being looked over. The man at the bar started talking. Visitor?' Yes,' I replied. Where are you from?' From the north.' Now that was true, England is north of France, but my answer could've implied northern France, and I knew my French accent was of the north, as that was the part of the country where I had stayed twice on the exchanges. I introduced several matters into my conversation which showed I knew the area near Rouen and Amiens. While I was talking a couple of men came through a door at the back, nodded to the bar man and left. But there was one man sitting in the corner who kept looking at me. He was a man in his early forties I reckoned. He had wavy brown hair. He had a sort of puzzled look on his face. I half felt I recognised him. When I returned his look he looked away. This happened several times. Then another couple emerged from the back, and two men in quick succession disappeared into the back. There were some knowing grins on one or two of the men's faces. I wondered what was going on, as they had been in the back far longer than was required for any visit to the loo. I soon got up and left. Yes, I did wonder what was going on there, and I think the idea that it might have been a gay meeting place did go through my mind, but I put that down to my randiness.

"The next day I was in the little town, or perhaps it could better be described as a large village, where we did most of our shopping. I did almost all the shopping because my French was better than any of the others. Sometimes my sister came with me in a half hearted attempt to improve her colloquial French. But that day I went alone. I went round the stalls in the square and purchased the various items on my mother's list. The final errand was to collect a copy of the Times for my father, from the newsagents and bookshop. Dad had placed an order, even though it was the paper of two days before. I went into the shop and there saw the man from Mountaubon, standing behind the counter. We both obviously recognised each other. I purchased the copy of the Times, and then the man said, You know we sell all sorts of books, and there are some second hand books you may like too.' He paused for a moment, and must have seen that I was interested. Buying books has been a perpetual weakness of mine, almost a vice. He continued, Upstairs in the corner on the far right.' I went upstairs, and found a room with books on shelves all the way round, and some back to back book shelves in the middle of the room. I wandered round, slowly making my way to the corner on the far right. It was the darkest corner of the room but there I discovered a whole lot of gay literature. Some were books, but there were also a pile of magazines standing on the floor. I picked up a magazine, and saw the usual pictures of men, young men in suggestive poses. I was looking at some of these, when the man with the wavy hair appeared at the top of the stairs, You have found them, I see.' I felt rather embarrassed, and put the magazine back on the top of the pile. He continued, Did you enjoy your visit to that bar in Montaubon?' It was interesting,' I said, with a grin. Then we heard the door of the shop below being opened, and he went back down stairs. I heard the sound of voices from below, and picked up another magazine. Then the door went again, and I heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. He came and stood near me. You are staying at ---,' mentioning the place where we were staying. You like those mags? You can borrow some of those, if you'd like,' he offered. Thanks.' We looked at each other and smiled. I bent over to pick up some more magazines, and I immediately felt a hand on my buttocks. Straight away, almost as a reflex action, I stood up straight. You do not like?' You surprised me, that's all,' I replied. His hand went back, You speak excellent French, unlike most of your countrymen.' I've spent two summers living with a French family; that's why. I am going to study French at Cambridge in the autumn.' All the time he was feeling my bum. You have a nice firm arse.' He paused. I suspect you have a nice firm cock.' We both looked down and could see a pronounced tenting in my shorts. His other hand reached for my groin, and I felt him finger my cock through the thickness of my shorts. He pulled down my zip, and I felt his hand go in, and his finger searching for my cock. I have never made love to an Englishman,' he said. And I have never made love to a Frenchman,' I replied. He held my cock, keeping his hand inside my shorts. He leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss. I decided I was rather liking this, so I bent forward and returned his kiss. I'd like to make love to you, Englishman, but now is not the time. Customers will be coming into the shop. Can you come round in the afternoon or evening?' Yes,' I replied. My name is Archie, by the way.' Mine is Andre,' he said. We kissed again, and he continued to hold my cock. There was the sound of the door again. He pulled his hand out. I will be back in a minute.' I zipped myself up, and started looking at some of the more substantial gay fiction. After about five minutes Andre returned carrying a plastic bag. For the magazines,' he explained. Can you come again, for a longer, proper time together? An afternoon? Or an evening?' I'll try to come this afternoon, but if not today, tomorrow.' `I'll show you a better way than through the shop. If people see you at the door of my shop some will be wondering what an Englishman is doing there, and the rest will know what you have come for. Many in the village know that I am a homosexual, that does not matter for me, but it would be unfair for you to be known as one as well.' "

"Was it that afternoon, or the evening you were round at Andre's?"

"That afternoon. Evenings were always difficult as we went out as a family for a meal, and as you may know in France that is always a lengthy procedure. In the afternoon, when the day was at it warmest we all did our own things. Mum would read by the pool, so she could keep an eyes on my brother and sister if they went in for a swim. Dad used to go to bed for a sleep. I used to read, so I took a book, and walked into the village."

"How far out of the village were you?"

"Only about a mile and a half.

"So that afternoon I made my way into the village. I did not have to go into the square. I found my way to Andre's. I rang the door bell, and very soon he was opening the door. His face lit up with a smile. I hardly dared to hope that you would come,' he said. I went in. He locked the door, and led the way upstairs to a sitting room. It was crammed full of old furniture, and books all over the place. The largest item of furniture was a chaise longue. I was to get to know it well. Andre went over to a corner and poured out a couple of glasses of wine. As he handed me a glass, he said, To the Entente Cordiale.' Fortunately my history O levels [See footnote at the end] had covered the period leading up to the first world war. So I raised my glass in response, To the Entente Cordiale,' Reinforced this 4th August 1968. A memorable date,' said Andre. I must have looked puzzled. 4th August 1914 was the day that the Entente Cordiale became operational, the Kingdom of Great Britain and the Republic of France were standing together in the first war with the Boche,' explained Andre. All over a Scrap of Paper,' I replied. It was Andre's turn to look mystified. In England someone called the treaty guaranteeing the neutrality of Belgium signed back in the 1830s, a Scrap of Paper,' I now explained. We began to drink our wine. Andre spoke, Ever since this morning my hands have been itching to hold your cock again.' He put the glass into his left hand, while with his right he began to feel my crotch. He pulled down the zip, and his hand slipped in, and was soon holding my cock. Before setting out to walk into the village I had taken off my pants. He looked at me. You have come prepared.' I drank my glass of wine, and put it down on a small pile of books that were on a small table. I reached for his crotch. We drew closer. Our arms went round each other and slowly and gently we kissed. I would like to see my Englishman without any clothes on.' What is sauce of the English goose is sauce for the French gander,' I replied. Whether he knew the English proverb I doubt, but after a moments hesitation he had worked it out and got the meaning. He invited me to undo his shirt. I slowly undid the buttons, and pulled the shirt out of his trousers. I saw an almost hairless white chest, except for the V where the sun had bronzed his skin through the open neck of his shirt. When I had taken off his shirt, he undid mine and removed it. By this time I was beginning to acquire a small patch of body hair in the middle of my chest. I was quite proud of it. Andre's hand went to it, and felt it. You're going to end up quite a hairy man,' he said. He kissed my chest, and fondled my nipples with his lips and tongue. He pulled away, and undid the belt that was holding my shorts in place, with zip already undone they fell to the ground. I stepped out of them. Andre stood back and looked at me. My cock was standing out hard and proud. I stepped up to him, and undid his trouser belt, and lowered the trousers. He had some white pants on underneath. I briefly felt his cock through the material, before taking them off. We stood in our stocking feet looking at each other. Andre's cock was slightly longer than mine. It was not yet fully erect, and the glans was covered by his foreskin. It was surrounded by an extensive and profuse mass of thick wiry black hair. It stood out so much against the fairness of his skin. As I watched he hardened and the helmet started to appear out of its sheath. I reached across and held it. You know where that wants to go, don't you?' he said, indicating his prick. I think so,' I said with a grin, `And I'd like to have it in there.' We again got close, and kissed and our hands roamed all over each other.

" Kneel down,' ordered Andre. I knelt down supporting myself on the chaise longue. I will prepare you.' With great gentleness he lubricated my arse. Then I felt his cock, pause in position. Slowly he pushed, and slowly he entered, fully, until I felt his wiry pubic hair tickling my buttocks. It was a wonderful filling. I wriggled my bum, to feel as much of him as possible. He kept pausing whenever I felt he was approaching his climax. His hands wandered all over me. He positioned his legs so that they were against mine. I felt as though I was being slowly wound up. A spring inside me was getting tighter and tighter and was getting closer to the point where it could hold out no longer. He came first, I felt his tension rise, at the final moment his body was still, so I felt every part his cock pulse inside me, and a great lavish gush of the cream of life flow out into me. As his cock fell still, I passed that point of no return and I poured out my seed onto his chaise longue. We stayed there panting for several minutes. When our breath and heart rate had returned to normal, he pulled his limp cock out of me. His glans was now totally covered by his foreskin. We looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Coffee?' Andre asked. Yes, please'. He disappeared down stairs, and with my handkerchief I mopped up my spunk from the chaise longue. I went to the door and saw the bathroom, so I went and washed out the handkerchief and returned and wiped the chaise longue clean of all seminal remains. While I waited for Andre to return I started to look at some of the books. That led to the second part of the afternoon a discussion of French literature. Eventually it was time for me to leave."

"I bet you were round there again?"

"As many afternoons as possible. Sometimes when I was not able to visit him in the afternoon I managed to call on Andre during the evening. There was an established ritual to my visits. A glass of wine, toasting the Entente Cordiale. Our time of sex, the next time Andre said, `Last time France gave his life force to England, this time England must give to France.' So we alternated. Then there was coffee and literary chat. Over those few weeks he discovered what I had read, and suggested to me further reading. Over those weeks I worked my way through his pile of gay magazines. It was a wonderful summer, as memorable to me as that summer, several years earlier, with Bobby, googlies and sex."

We laughed.

"I learnt a lot from Andre. I think I learnt patience, gentleness, and just how much of our bodies by gently persistent attention could be roused to an ecstasy of sensation. To put it technically, I had not realised until then just how many erogenous zones we have. When I walked round to his place that first afternoon I thought, `What am I doing, he's old.' But I soon realised that that did not matter. He was a vastly experienced man. If I say he had good technique, it sounds rather cold and calculating, and he was never that. He was a very loving man. At every stage he was concerned about me. I soon realised he would never hurt me. I felt secure. I felt loved."

"You must have been sorry to go home?"

"Eventually the final day of our holiday in France arrived. For the last time we toasted the Entente. Our love making was longer, and France gave to England, and I gave to France. Coffee time came all too soon. The literary discussion was short. The time came for me to go. When I stood up to leave, Andre brought out a heavy cardboard box. This is for you,' he said, Open it when you get back to England, they will remind you of me.' I put my arms round him. I'll never forget you, Andre. You have given me so much.' Spunk?' he interjected. We laughed. You have taught me so much about sex. And also about French literature. If I get a good degree, part of it will be thanks to you.' I said. Andre gave a small bow, before adding, Does not your poet Shakespeare say, parting is such sweet sorrow, but I don't know where the sweetness is.' We kissed for a while, and eventually I dragged myself away. The cardboard parcel was a load to carry back."

"What had he given you?"

"He'd given me a whole load of books. All books I had never read, and that we had talked about. Inside each one he had written. `From Andre with happy memories' and then a date. The date was different in each one. There was a book for each of the days we had met. I still have those books, I must show you sometime."

"So there ended the Andre episode."

"Not quite. We all went to bed fairly early, i.e. about half past ten that night. By eleven the house was still, and I was awake, tossing from side to side. I could not sleep. So I got out of bed, got dressed and walked down to the village. Everywhere was dark and silent. I rang Andre's bell. I had to ring a couple of times. Eventually I could see a light go on, and the voice came from inside, Who's there?' Arch' I replied. The bolts were pulled and the door opened. There was Andre with a towel wrapped round his waist. I went in. He led the way to his bedroom. The bed was in a dishevelled state. I just got undressed and got into bed. We said almost nothing to each other. No words were needed. We made love to each other for some three or four hours. Eventually we dozed off. I woke with the first stirring of dawn. Andre was fast asleep. I wriggled out of his arms, and got dressed. I bent over him and gave him a kiss, `Goodbye, my friend. Thank you, and God bless.' I made my way out of his house, and back to the place where we were staying. I stumbled into bed, and got about an hour and half's sleep before my father called me."

"Fortunately we were not going back to Silverhanger in one go. We stopped at a nice hotel near Rheims, and returned home the next day. Those few weeks of September and October were a drag. played some cricket. I prepared for Cambridge. All was set for the great love of my life."

By this time we had walked down the track to where Swinner Gill enters the Swale. The Swale at this point curves round to flow in a more southerly direction. Swinner Gill tumbles down from a side valley in a series of small waterfalls and rapids. It is quite a small stream, with plenty of places where it is easy to cross without getting your feet wet, unless of course it is in spate. We stood on the foot bridge and looked around. The track crossed as a ford, and we continued walking on it.

Our conversation continued. "How did you find becoming an undergrad?" I asked.

"Great. My mother drove me up to Cambridge from Silverhanger. It is not very far. I had a room in the Fisher Building. It is the part of Queens', on the far side of the Cam from most of the college. It is pleasant, and modern when compared with the rest of the college. I unpacked the car. Mother and I went off for a pub lunch and then she went home and I was left to my own devises. I felt free, in a way I had never felt free in all my school days. I was looking forward to work, to play, and of course, to meeting some like minded guys in the sexual field. I was pretty sure Cambridge was going to be a great three years for me in every way. They were, but not quite in the way I expected. That first evening when I was still getting myself sorted, putting the books Andre had given me on the bookshelves among other things, there was a knock on the door. I called out to whoever it was to come in. The door opened and the most wonderful looking guy came into the room. He was just over six foot. He had blond wavy hair. Good physique. I thought, he looks a great guy I would like to get into his pants."

Notes:-

1. Prep school and Common Entrance. For those unacquainted with the English education system. There is the free State system which educates the majority of schoolchildren. Alongside that is the Independent Sector, which in England educates 7.4% of schoolchildren. This is fee paying and expensive, and in effect only open to those who can afford it. Terminology makes things more confusing. Preparatory [Prep] Schools cater for fee paying children from the age of 7. At 13 such children will take the Common Entrance Exam for a place in their next stage of education at what is often called a Public School. Some Public Schools, like Eton, Harrow, Rugby, Winchester etc have a world wide reputation. But such schools vary greatly in size and quality. Archie coming from a prosperous family with plenty of money would naturally be educated in the private sector. Many of the Public Schools were founded by a benefactor to provide free education for poor boys. Over the years and for various reasons they have become expensive and elite establishments. I went to a minor Public School, that was originally founded to provide education for poor boys, but over the years, and under some dynamic headmasters became a largely fee paying establishment. Though it must be said that the founders original intentions have not been totally forgotten.

2. Pennine Way and Coast to Coast Path. The Pennine Way is a long distance footpath stretching from Derbyshire to the Scottish border. The Coast to Coast crosses the country west to east, through Cumbria and Yorkshire.

3. John Company. The nick name for the East India Company that in fact ruled increasing parts of India until the end of the 18th Century, and in name until middle of the 19th century.

4. O levels. In the 1960s there were two levels of state examinations. They were taken by pupils at Independent or Public Schools as well as by those in the State system. O [Ordinary] levels were taken in a number of subjects at 15/16. A [Advanced] were taken two years later in three or four subjects.

This section is probably more English that any of theprevious ones. If you have any questions do ask. jeffyrks@hotmail.com