In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
HEADING HOME
by Marin Giustinian
Part Three and The End : Outer Hebrides, Edinburgh and elsewhere, 1966-67
We made love once more as the morning light slipped into the cottage.
"Stay in bed. I'm just going to tend to the fire and cook us something to get us going again."
While he went about that, I grabbed my notebook and jotted down the following thoughts.
'The waves were pounding on the distant strand, and then they began to calm.They were like the tempest of our loving and the ensuing glow of our nestling. We climaxed on the tip of high tide. The waves have been doing their monotonous coming and going ever since the beginning of time, sometimes in the fury of a storm, sometimes simply rippling in a dead calm, but their tidal rise and fall has been here for billions of years and has never ceased. Like the tides, our love is in us moving as they move. They have always been moving. Love is the tide of life, never stopping, always the same and always unique, stirring our souls with every breath. Love is as old and as restless as the tides and yet the love Brendan and I share is the only love that ever happened in time itself -- because it's ours and ours alone. My awareness will come and go in the undertow of our melding bodies. Nothing else is sure, and nothing else is more important.'
Brendan saw me absorbed in writing and let me finish. When I looked up and saw him smiling at me, I just shrugged.
"Finish what you're writing. When inspiration hits us, it's like having to pee. When you have to go, you have to go!"
"You are so right! Be right back!"
As we enjoyed another country breakfast, I said to Brendan, "You know, we could live here like hippies, drop out of the system, stop being a part of the Big Rape. We could live like hermits. Love could be our livelihood. It could do the world a lot of good."
"What do you mean, exactly?"
"Believe in each other as we believe in love, living according to your Jesus, here and now. That's all. Let's think about it. Now I want to get back in bed... Don't you?"
We spent the day like that, letting our flesh think on its own. For our last night in the cottage, we reveled late into the night. We finished the wine and got in bed early. God knows when we finally calmed down and went to sleep.
The dawning hours are the sweetest for lovers. We made love and then hurriedly prepared the cottage to be left until spring.
As we were loading up, Brendan asked, "Have you found a name for the cottage, Andrew?"
"Yes, I have. From now on, the cottage shall be called, 'Home'! How's that?"
He looked surprised.
"I'll have to think about it," he smilingly replied.
We drove to the ferry. We had just time enough for a fast breakfast, boarded and arrived in Uig early enough to be back in Edinburgh that night.
"I'll put the car in the garage tomorrow. I'll keep you with me tonight in my humble city abode, my young prince!"
We climbed the stairs up to Brendan's flat. It was on the last floor of a house on Blackfriars Street. There were three rooms: a kitchen, a study-library-living room combined, and a bedroom. Each room had its gabled window and a small nineteenth century fireplace. The furnishings were simple, almost minimal, and the whole place very tidy and well kept. It smelled just like Brendan's fragrance, a combination of santal, musk and amber. I felt good there... real good.
"Thanks for keeping me. I was dreading to go back to Mrs. McGee's"
As he went through his mail, I browsed along the books in his library. I wanted to read them all!
We ate out, came back in and got ready for bed. I went to the bathroom first.
"Enjoy a long hot shower, Andrew. After our stay at the cottage, it's going to be a luxury."
He didn't say, 'home'... I guess I was pushing him too much! I took my shower and as he took his, I laid down on the sheets, nude as usual. He smiled at me and crawled on the bed.
Nature took over once more. He laid on me, covering me with kisses. I held on to him like my life depended on it. Perhaps it did... As I held him, I uttered, "Brendan, let's live together here, starting from now. Why wait? There's room for two here... I can't bear going back to my little room all by myself. I won't take up much room and I can pay my share of the expenses... Please!"
Brendan rolled over and sighed, saying, "Andrew... do you really want us to actually LIVE together? We're really quite different. So many stupid things separate us: nationalities, age, experience... Everyday living can create friction. Edinburgh isn't like the Isle of North Uist. Why don't we save living together for our home in the Hebrides?"
He said it! Our home! I rolled over on top of him and spoke my mind as my very erect cock snuggled up tight against his.
"Listen to me, Brendan. I only see what unites us. Sure, I see what separates us, too, like you said. But what separates us is nothing compared to what unites us. I choose to ignore the stupid little things that could separate us. I only want us to believe in each other enough to live together. I want to live with you in the cottage, in our home, under the gaze of our naked Jesus! Your play gave him the starring role. I met you because of your play. Our love became real in his presence in our home. I want to live and work with you always, Brendan. Do you understand that?"
There was a long moment of silence. I did not dare to utter another word. He held me tight . Then he kissed me, lightly at first, then a bit better. We rolled over on our sides, our legs entwining. He caressed my face and slowly said,
"Yes, I'm starting to understand myself in you. We'll go fetch your things tomorrow and bid Mrs. McGee good-bye," whispered Brendan as he ran his fingers through my hair.
"Oh, yes, Brendan! But let's stay in tomorrow morning... We can... well, you know... and then go later."
"We can, you know... then, and now too..."
"Yes! yes, yessssss...."
I welcomed him inside me for the first time that night. He was gentle. I quivered in delight as I stradled him and eased down on his cock rubbing his chest. His gaze was lost in total surrender, in the tides of love rising into ecstasy. He slowly began throbbing and pushing his longing presence inside me. He set me afire as our motions synced together. He pushed, I rolled, he throbbed, I squeezed. We both broke into tears of rapture as he arched under me. He gasped, grabbing my shoulders, wide-eyed as if astonished by the force of his sudden upheaval of love ejaculating. He pulled me to his gaping mouth, kissing me, moaning, whimpering, lost and jerking over and over as he endlessly spewed his fire deep inside me, giving me all his most precious self. The following morning, he prayed me to enter him too.
"I need you to lose yourself deep inside me, Andrew! I need it more than I can stand. Don't deny me the sun of your semen."
He aroused me as I did him the night before. Then rode me as I screamed, convulsing in an explosion of ecstasy. The orgasm was cosmic. It hit me, shook me, making me weep stars instead of tears. I lost my breath, nearly fainting, and then with deep sigh, I laid limp, relishing the kisses Brendan spread all over my tingling body. Nothing more was said. We both understood that, come what may, henceforth, our love was the reason of our being, unique, steadfast, blindingly luminous.
Mrs. McGee greeted us with her usual smile. I introduced Brendan, simply saying that we were partners and were going to live together. She smiled and said, "Listen, my bonnie love birds, do as your heart demands. Be careful. Give me your address, loves, so I can forward your mail. Do your parents know about this?"
"Not yet..."
"I see... Andrew, you know that the rent you've paid in advance cannot be refunded."
"No problem, Mrs. MaGee."
"Come and see me when you can, both of you, and, by the way, my name is Maggie!"
We put my bag in the boot and tied my trunk on the luggage rack. I held my other bag on my knees. We dumped my stuff down in the middle of the kitchen, saying we'll sort it out later. We needed to take our dirties to be laundered and buy groceries.
It was fun, rearranging the flat, fitting in my things, eliminating others and when that was done, I told Brendan that I had a last errand to run.
"What it is?"
"A surprise!"
I ran to a nearby florist shop and bought a beautiful bouquet of flaming, crimson roses and a simple, cylindrical vase. I had my hands full coming back and when I came back in, Brendan gasped, exclaiming, "Good God, thank you, Andrew! Thank you for being in my life!"
I just stood there with the vase under one arm and the mass of roses under the other, smiling like a moron at my man, feeling so damn good inside it almost hurt!
The New Year's celebrations came and went. News from abroad told us about racial riots and police cruelty in America. The war in Vietnam was making headlines. We listened a lot to the radio. We loved to listen to radio plays, cuddling in front of the fire. It was a moment of peace, far from the turmoil of the city.
Social discontent was growling down in England. The Tory Canyon disaster in Cornwall hit us hard! We were sure that the Arab countries and Israel were soon going to war... and they did!
Brendan and I worked a lot, each one doing his job, but we also took the time to plan together. We read about the hippy movement. I even talked about it some with my fellow classmates. We talked about the sexual revolution, marijuana, protecting nature, leaving the system, peace and love, etc... Everything sort of screamed in my ears, "We've gotta get out of this system! Make a world of our own, Brendan and me! Get a new world started..."
Brendan and I talked more and more about 'home'. The getaway project was looking like something feasible, not practical, but possible.
At the same time, there were things we had to finish before taking the big step. Little did I imagine that our play would decide for us.
I studied for my final exams. Brendan continued teaching his workshops and, of course, we were putting the final touches on the play. We finally found a title: 'Forbidden Sanctity'.
The premiere was scheduled just before spring holidays. Mark commented the fact that I really kissed better and better. He said that after Christmas, I had become the sexiest guy he knew. Wonder why... Ha! He responded well on stage with me and we fooled around some off stage too, just for boyish fun.
The theater was packed for the one and only performance of 'Forbidden Sanctity'. Mark was sweating from stage-fright. We hugged about every three minutes until the time for curtain call. Branden came into the dressing room. He was the most beautiful monk imaginable!
"Okay, men! Give me a hug."
All three of us huddled, rubbing our heads together.
"Guys, you can go on stage now. In a minute or two, we'll do as we rehearsed the last time. I'll begin in front of the curtain and when it opens, it's up to you... Be sincere with what you feel, that's all I can say at this point. Carry on! I'm proud of you both!"
He dashed off. We took our stance on stage. Branden began his opening monologue. The lights rose on stage as the curtain opened.
I was swept into the action. I was living it. Everything was natural, alive, real, flowing better than I could have ever hoped for. Mark was stunning... sometimes funny, sometimes nearly tragic in his rustic awkwardness.
When we began commenting on the nude Christ, taking it in our hands, the audience began to become restless. Some people actually left.
When it became evident that our sexual arousal was in direct relation to the nude statuette, under its spell, we became more openly physical together.
There was a gasp when we kissed and started pulling on each other's clothes. Mark ripped at my costume, rubbed my chest. He insisted, he wasn't acting. I responded likewise and the scene went on. We were naked to the waist and hesitated to start pulling on the belts of our trousers. The lights should be dimming, but they didn't dim and we just couldn't stop there! Only when Mark, holding in one hand the statuette and cramming the other down into my trousers did we fall on the straw, still making out like fiends. The guy driving the lighting off-stage realized that we should already be in the dark. Obscurity fell and Mark continued to hump me, moaning, grasping my cock behind the curtain. Brendan spoke the conclusion. Mark suddenly let me go. We stood, stuffing our hard-ons into our underwear and holding on to our pants we waited for the lights in the house to come on. The half of the house which remained applauded like thunder. Some others booed, shouting, "Shame! Blasphemy! Queer filth!"
We bowed bravely and fled to the dressing rooms. Mark broke down, screaming, banging his fists against the wall.
"I don't know what happened Andrew! I'm so ashamed of myself!"
Branden burst in.
"I'll never be able to face my mates anymore! Shit! Shit! I'm sorry I ruined the show," wailed Mark.
Brendan shook him saying, "Mark you were great. Both of you were great. There was truth on stage. Half of the audience appreciated the truth, the other half are still polluted by obsolete fairy tales... Be proud of your job and of yourselves. Real acting isn't make-believe."
"That's the whole problem, Brendan! Truth! I fell for Andrew for real. I lusted him. I grabbed his cock... Oh shit! I know you two are in love, but I'm not like you! I'm bloody, mother-fucking straight!"
"Maybe you're both, Mark!" I said stepping in, "We turned each other on. Where's the problem? I bet your girlfriend will find you a lot hotter since she saw you kissing me like mad. How much do you want to bet?"
We were all laughing when Brendan's boss stormed in. Brendan was coldly ushered out of the dressing room. As he was leaving, he told me that we'd meet back at the flat.
Mark and I left the theater together. As we came out of the theater's door, we were cheered by our mates who were waiting for us outside. Mark's girlfriend ran up to me and gave me a fabulously wet Hollywood kiss on the mouth. Then she turned to Mark and stated, "Now I understand! He's a great kisser! Hot as hell... and so are you darling! So are you!" she exclaimed as she gave Mark a sweet peck on the cheek.
The group chanted, "A Kiss, a kiss, give us another man kiss!"
We looked at each other, grinned and kissed again under a shower of hurrahs.
"See you around guys! Thanks, but I've got to go," I said turning away. I was worried about Brendan. I had just come in when Brendan arrived. He was really worked up. I poured him a drink.
"So?" I inquired, playing it cool.
"So what?"
"So what happened when you got kidnapped by the chief?"
"It happened like I thought it would happen. The bigoted bastard was afraid of a scandal. I told him I was born to make scandals. I asked him what's wrong? He said if I continued insulting religion with homosexual display, the board of trustees could suspend my contract. I then said that they won't have the opportunity. I can't create with a bunch of old dimwit perverts breathing down my neck. I said I'd hand over my resignation letter Monday. Now, I'm free to tell everybody why I resigned. I'm free, Andrew. I'm now free to go home!"
We celebrated the show, the resignation, and our future homecoming with cold chicken and champagne and loads of tender loving care.
The following evening, as we were cuddling, listening to BBC - Culture, we happened to tune in on a fabulous storyteller. We had listened only about ten to fifteen minutes when suddenly, Branden grabbed me shouting, "Good God! That's what we're going to do. We're going to become storytellers for the radio. We can create, interpret and record stories and sell them to nearly all English speaking radio companies throughout the world! Even if radio-theatre is going out of style, there's enough left, like BBC Culture, Radio 4, here in the UK. Then there are the university radios in America!"
I was even more thrilled as he was.
"It'll take a lot of work, but I know some people at the BBC here in Edinburgh. I'll go and talk with them about the idea... Are you up for it, Andrew? You can record in American and Queen's English, I can do it in most all the ordinary accents in the UK and even in Gaelic! Wow! That's going to be fun! fun! fun!"
The guys at the BBC encouraged Brendan. It was up to us to furnish them top quality stuff!
"If it's good, there's a market for it," they said.
Quality radio creation was becoming rare.
Brendan did accept to finish the year. For spring break, we returned home. We made plans to turn the little shed into a garage and recording studio. We found an excellent battery powered, professional reel to reel tape recorder, fixed it up to work on a car battery we could jump charge with a cable on the MG. We also invested in a radio telephone for the car we could use for business and friends. We planned to move in on a permanent basis during the summer and do the work needed.
I had in the bank money to pay my second year's tuition and expenses. I chipped that in. Brendan put up his flat for furnished rental. We shipped the books and their shelves to home.
I decided it was time for me to be tell everything to my parents.
I wrote them a long letter about my love for Brendan, our life together, our radio project, and announced our upcoming visit to the Winthrop house in Charlottesville.
We flew over for a week long visit. It was hard negotiating with my parents at first, but the more we talked, the easier it became. My father was the first to give in, saying that I should take out British citizenship because of the war going on in Vietnam. Mom finally gave up, saying, "Do what you have to do, boys. We know you'll do it anyway. So bless you. We love you."
The flight back was crowded. We had left the car in the Glasgow airport and drove all the way back home, with the regular stopover at the hotel in Uig. Brendan snoozed with his head on my shoulder as I drove. I was happy as the first birds of dawn... happy to be me and to be heading home -- together with my man!
There, I've finished writing our story for now. There's a lot of stuff we can recycle for our radio stories. That's going to be another blast!
THE END
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net.
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