The following morning started much as the day before. Inky brought me a mug of tea in bed. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes before going down to light the stove and start the breakfast.
As it was another fine day, we went out walking again. This time we turned down the valley, and the walk was more along forest tracks and by rushing streams than on the bare moors of the day before. Again, we talked a great deal, and again, I will give you an account of the vital parts of our conversation and not the trivia and the frequent interruptions when we had to overcome some obstacle in our path.
I began the serious part of the day with an outright question: "Does Brenda yet know about your sexual interest in men?"
Inky paused. "Patrick and I talked long and hard about telling Brenda. She is a typical woman, her intuition telling her that something was amiss. It certainly crossed her mind that there was another woman, but somehow it didn't fit. She knew the work set up, and the folk at work. She would have picked up vibes if there was anther woman involved. Yes, she knew I was often out of the office, but I had always chatted to her about where I'd been and who I'd seen. I didn't go into their financial details, naturally, but I would tell her some personal details. I'd always done that, and continued when I started up with Patrick. I never mentioned Patrick at all to her. Our days up here together were few and far apart, and easy to cover."
"Does Brenda still not know about you?"
"She knows now. It all came out, very soon after I received your first Email."
"Quite recently, then. What happened?"
"She started it all off. 'You know, Inky, I used to be able to read you like a book. But I have a feeling you are hiding something from me. For a while, I thought it might be another woman. But there was no evidence, nothing seemed to foster that suspicion. I knew it wasn't some financial matter, unless it was too small a sum to worry about. We've always had a joint account, I always knew exactly where we stood, there were no secrets about that since the day you moved in with me. I somehow can't see you engaged in some criminal activity, I know you too well. If it was some secret little vice, you would have shared it with me. I just haven't a clue what it is; but I am sure there is something.' She sat looking at me across the kitchen table, eye to eye.
" 'Yes, I suppose there is something. I've been wondering for some time how to tell you, but there has never been an opportune time.' She looked at me with such penetrating yet loving eyes. I found it hard to continue.
" 'You may remember years ago, the first time we made love in your flat down in Maidstone, you asked me if I was a virgin. I told you then that I had had a certain amount of sexual activity with boys at school.' 'I vaguely remember,' was her reply. 'You said you'd soon cure me of that. A few years back, the memories of those far off school days returned. Then the desire to do something about it.' 'And have you?' she asked. Rather shame-facedly, I nodded.
Brenda immediately stood up and stared at me. 'So that's why sex is so rare these days, and so unsatisfactory! Why didn't you tell me, and I could have helped you before it got serious?' 'It is not as simple as that! I have fought those desires every inch of the way, Brenda. I love you, I still love you, but always there was this mounting desire for a man.' 'And you, you lilly-livered scum bag, gave way to it?' 'Eventually, after two or three years of struggle, I gave way. There was an opportunity, and I fell. I felt so guilty afterwards.' 'Quite right too!' she said, 'but you did it again.' 'Yes, after many months, I did.' 'Is it one man, or several?' 'After that first time, there has only been one man.' 'I suppose that's something to be grateful for. Is he a colleague, or is he client? Do I know him?' 'No, Brenda, you don't know him.' 'What's his name?' 'I don't think I should tell you. You could make life very difficult for him.' 'I feel like tearing his eyes out, though his cock and balls might be more to the point. Why won't you tell me? Is his work sensitive?' I think Brenda must have seen from something in me that she had scored a hit. 'What is he? In the public eye? A local politician? A doctor? A vicar?' I gave a slight nod at her third suggestion. Though Patrick never saw or called himself a vicar, but a priest, or parish priest; I thought vicar would distract her enough from the Roman Catholic church on to the Church of England. 'How often do you see this vicar-man?' 'When we can, which isn't very often.'
"When I think it all over, it is a wonder to me that she'd never put two and two together and seen our likely amorous rendezvous as the cottage up here. I did wonder if that thought may have crossed her mind, and I wouldn't have put it past her to have come all the way here when she thought we might be up here."
"Perhaps she did?" I suggested.
"But she never came when we were here," replied Inky.
" 'How long has this been going on? How long have you been seeing this vicar man?' she asked. 'A year or two.' I was purposely vague. 'This sordid truth explains much. It explains why sex has become less frequent between us. But I am disgusted to think that we have had sex, and where your promiscuous dick has been. I need time to take all this in, and to decide what to do.' She stormed out of the room, and a few minutes later the front door slammed and I heard her drive off in her car."
"And you, Inky, what did you do?" I asked.
"I think I sat down and wept, but there was also a sense of relief that it was now out in the open. I knew telling her would never be easy, yet I owed her the truth. I still loved her in a way. We'd had a good marriage until the old sex urges returned. Now the children would find out. I wondered what the future would hold. Brenda returned a couple of hours later. She did not tell me where she'd been. 'You can sleep in another bed from now on.' She went off upstairs and there were the usual sounds of her retiring for the night. I sat for a long while brooding. I wanted to ring Patrick, but I knew there was an extension to the land line in our bedroom. I couldn't use my mobile, as I had left it on the bedside table, something I always did when I came home and changed out of my work clothes."
"Could she have found Patrick's number on that?"
"I hadn't mentioned his name to her, and though he was listed on my mobile there were a host of others, many of them clients, and she wouldn't be be able to tell him from Adam.
"I eventually made my way up to bed. It was the first time we had slept in separate beds since that first night when I was beginning my accountancy training, except for when the kids were born, or when one or other of us was away."
"I presume Sharon and Wayne know about you."
"Oh yes, they know. In fact, Brenda had been round to Wayne's that evening and told him. He lives the closest."
"How have they taken it?"
"Wayne is very hostile. He's very abrupt with me nowadays, only speaks to me when he has to. Sharon is better, but is very upset about it all. She has only been married a couple of years, and is pregnant with her number one. She sees a lot more of her Mum than of me. I am sad about that, as we used to be very close."
"So what has been happening over these last two months?"
"It has been an extremely difficult time. You could cut the atmosphere in the house with a knife. After a couple of weeks, Brenda said she wanted a divorce. We managed to have a reasonable conversation about who should move out. With some help, we have managed to agree as to how things will be divided. She will get the house, and I will keep the cottage. The difference in value is considerable, as you will imagine. I'm now looking for somewhere to live. I couldn't make up my mind whether to go for a flat near the centre of Newcastle or a house in the suburbs. I have started looking at some apartments towards the centre of the Newcastle. I think I will be spending more time at the cottage. It needs some money spent on it, but I might even get permission to get power from the river to provide the essentials. Might even build an extension with a bathroom, which would save the trips out to the netty in a howling gale."
"What does Patrick think of it all?" I asked.
"He's been a great support. So many decisions can only be made by me, but he listens."
"And you still make love?"
"Oh yes, when we can. We never make love at the presbytery. I know he'd be unhappy with that, though when we are there alone we sit close and hug and kiss. This winter, we've not been out here. We are very close and good for each other, in more ways than just sexually. He finds it refreshing to have an agnostic friend, rather than a Roman Catholic like himself. I have found him helpful in that quiet listening way over the last two months.
"How old is he?"
"Fifty, same age as us. We are very comfortable with each other."
"I suppose you can't live together?"
"No. What would he do if he left the church? It is almost impossible for an ex-Roman priest to get into teaching these days. He would be a suspect paedophile from the word go. His whole life has been the priesthood, he's only fit to stack supermarket shelves! Besides, he still feels the priesthood is his calling, and he enjoys his work, though how he does it I don't know. He works very hard, a six day week if he's lucky. Often it's a seven day week, and liable to be called out in the middle of the night if one of his flock is thought to be dying."
"How does he cope with the official church line on homosexuality?"
"'Intrinsically evil, a disordered condition'? He's not the only gay priest by any manner or means. His friend in Rome leads an active life, and he says there is quite a lot of it there. Patrick says that all the time guilt lurks to some degree around every actively gay priest. But he says that he believes that God made him that way. If God made him that way, a loving God would not give him such a sexual drive with the demand to say 'no' at every turn. I don't know what will happen when he retires. We could live together then, but Roman Catholic priests don't retire until they are seventy-five, if we both get that far."
"Wow, that is a long working life. I'd like to meet your Patrick, Inky, I really would."
"Perhaps you will one day. He's more than just a fuck buddy, though he is a lovely guy to fuck, and loves my hard cock deep in him for as long as possible. We both look forward to the times when we can be together, and that is not just in bed."
We both laughed.
"Things will be easier for us when I get a place of my own. He can come round, and we can spend time together. The odd evening, and perhaps even the odd night."
"And that may not be long into the future."
"I suppose not."
We continued our walk, talking more generally, and catching up on news of the past years. As we walked, I think we both felt as though we had slipped back into the easy relationship we had in our school days. I certainly did not think Inky had changed all that much as a person. He was older and more mature, but he laughed in the familiar way at the same things.
We made our way back to the cottage, to a meal and an evening quietly talking before the fire.
XXX
I was the first to wake the following morning. I lay in bed for a short while, but I have never been one to remain there for long. So I got out of bed, put my dressing gown on, and made my way as quietly as possible down stairs. While the kettle boiled for that essential day starter - a cup of tea - I got the wood-burning stove going. I made the tea, put all the necessary things onto a tray, and made my way up to Inky's room. I knocked softly on the door, and then more loudly, before a muffled voice invited me in.
"Sorry to wake you, Inky, but I have made some tea."
"Good man."
"And got the stove going down stairs."
"Even better man." He sat up in bed revealing his naked torso. I had seen it already, but again the sight called back memories of our school days. In spite of a slight thickening with the passing of the years, I doubt if he had put on more than two or three pounds in weight, or added more than an inch to his waist line.
I poured out a couple of mugs of tea, and handed one to him. "There's another one in the pot."
He was lying in the middle of his double bed; he moved to one side. "Why don't you get in? You'll get cold, and you look like a pea on a monument just standing there."
As I raised the duvet, I realised he was totally naked and I was wearing only my dressing gown. I slipped into the bed.
"Long time since we've been in bed together," he said.
"Over thirty years by my reckoning."
"How time flies. Oh, for the long-passed halcyon days of our youth."
"Do you want to go back to studying about Don Pacifico, and exams, and all those uncertainties of adolescence?"
"No, but there were some good times."
"Like the time you invited me to put my hand into your trouser pocket?"
We both laughed. We sipped our tea. I put my mug down on the floor beside the bed, and then Inky did the same. We rolled back and snuggled down under the duvet, the air in the bedroom was rather cold. We turned onto our sides so that we were facing each other. There was a significant moment of silence as we looked at each other.
"I think, Phil, I still find you as attractive as I did that first day when you did put your hand into my pocket and held my hard-on."
"Seeing you alongside me, and knowing you're stark naked, I'm getting a hard on again."
"So am I." Inky lifted the duvet and I saw his hard on, as he saw mine. The cold air on our warm nakedness soon made him lower the duvet again. He moved closer and put an arm round me. I responded by getting close. I could feel his hard cock pressed against mine.
"If we stay here much longer we'll be doing something that, while we might like it, Patrick will not."
"Patrick won't mind. He knows he's very special to me, but he said he trusted me, and if I wanted to and the opportunity arose, I should not say 'no'."
I chuckled. "I had a rather similar conversation with Andy before I left, but he was more unhappy that something might happen between us."
"Then we'd better not do anything." There was a marked look of disappointment on Inky's face.
"I'll deal with Andy. He is my number one."
"Will he be jealous?"
"I think more hurt than jealous, but I will deal with him. I want to go back to those old times, Inky. You're still as sexy as ever."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
We just moved into kissing and holding each other. It was soft, gentle kisses at first, but they became more passionate. I reached down and felt his hard cock. I squeezed it. "So how is my old friend down there?"
"Very happy to be held by you again. But he's very aroused, and there's something he'd like to do."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I want you to fuck me, Phil. Patrick is a hundred per cent bottom, I always fuck him. I haven't been fucked since that waiter in Manchester several years back. I'd like your cock to go where he's gone before."
I kissed Inky. "I'm happy with that. But I think we need some lube."
"No problem," said Inky. He got out of bed, and going across to the chest of drawers he got a tube of KY jelly. "I've got this for when Patrick is here." He prepared himself, and handed the tube to me.
I prepared my cock while he got into the bed. He felt cold. I dropped the tube down beside the bed. "How do you want it?"
"I'd like to start doggie fashion and then I can lower myself so that you're on top. We can keep the duvet over us, then we can take it as long and slow as possible. You used to be able to cum two or three times in a session without losing your hard-on."
"Those were the days! I was young then." I replied.
Inky got up onto all fours, and by keeping the duvet draped over us both it was not too cold. I put my cock into position against his warm arse-hole, and began to push. It slipped a couple of times, and then my head was in. I slowly pushed.
Inky gave a deep sigh. "I always enjoy fucking Patrick, but I'd forgotten just how wonderful it is to be fucked. You fit as perfectly as you always did, Phil."
Inky pulled one of the pillows so that it was underneath him and raising his arse. He lowered himself, and I maintained the penetration. In that position I was deep inside, and lying on his back I took a lot of my weight onto my arms. His head was turned to one side, and my face was close to his.
Somehow I managed to restrain myself from immediately thrusting into Inky. That initial crisis point which spoils so many fucks by cumming too soon was passed. We both relaxed. We were both comfortable with each other and in what we were doing.
"Are you likely to cum?" I asked.
"You used to be able to get us to shoot together. I am fairly close, and much more movement from you will probably make me cum."
"I'll see how long I can delay the inevitable." We were both very relaxed, and in that position both of us were comfortable. He told me more of his first time with Patrick, and I told him more about Andy.
"I think we're both on to good things," said Inky.
"I know I'm onto a good thing now. Your arse is as warm and welcoming as it ever was. It is a shame it so rarely gets used this way, especially if you like it."
"I have tried to persuade Patrick to have a go; he tried, but shot his load before he got in, and since then has refused. Don't get me wrong, I get great satisfaction from fucking him, and he likes it in every conceivable position. He is such a great guy, I couldn't wish for a better friend, but it is good to have your prick back in there."
If my cock began to slacken, I just had to move around a bit and it was fully hard again. We were not setting out to be especially lengthy in this proceeding, but we were. Eventually I moved once too often, and I warned Inky. He shoved his buttocks up, and I increased the rate of my ramming into him. I shot my load, and almost immediately afterwards I felt him spasm, as his load was deposited on the pillow beneath him.
We lay for several minutes, replete and satisfied. Quite soon my cock was limp, and Inky squeezed his muscles so that it slipped out of him.
"Thanks, Phil. I needed that."
"Any time to oblige an old friend."
"Maybe again tonight."
"I should've recharged the batteries by then."
Soon after, we got out of bed into the very cold bedroom. It was not easy getting cleaned up with water from a kettle in the kitchen. But it was soon done, and we were eating breakfast.
We did not walk so far that day, as by mid-day clouds were appearing to the west, and Inky thought there would be rain before the day was over.
Inky told me some more about Patrick. "It was very interesting the first time I brought Patrick out here. Back on Tyneside, I think he is very conscious that he is the parish priest. He speaks with an Irish accent, but with a Geordie tinge to it."
I laughed. "The mind boggles!"
"It was strange, as we drove out here that first time, his Irish accent became more pronounced. I could almost feel him relaxing and becoming more his real self. He speaks with the softest accent from his native county, Clare. He laughed and joked in a way that I had only got glimpses of before. When we eventually got out of the car, he just stood taking deep breaths. 'What a wonderful place you have here, Inky! I almost feel back in Ireland, it is wild and bleak, just not as boggy as back home.' I told him I could take him to plenty of good nearby peat bogs."
We both laughed, as we had encountered several in our walks together over the last few days.
"I went into the cottage to get the stove lit, and to make some coffee. I fully expected him to follow me. I suppose it was a good ten minutes when I took out a couple of steaming mugs of coffee. Patrick was seated on one of the rocks, gazing into the hills. He turned sharply when he heard me approach. 'This is a good place, Inky. Good, hard working people lived and laboured here once, tending their sheep and cutting the turves. We'll make good love here, my friend.' He took hold of his mug, and we both looked at the view. There was now a healthy and welcoming plume of smoke coming out of the chimney. I went and stood behind him, with my thighs and crotch pressing against his back. 'That's nice.' He wriggled his back. 'I can feel something important saying it is time to get on with things.' 'We must give the stove time to warm up the room.'
"We went back into the cottage. There was a little warmth in the room, but not much. We sat on the sofa and hugged each other. Soon we were kissing, and hands were exploring and unzipping jeans. I made some comment about sofas not being ideal places for real love making such as we both wanted, so we brought down the mattress from the double bed. It was quite a job getting it down those narrow, twisting stairs; I had forgotten what a job we'd had getting it up there in the first place. We started lying fully clothed on the mattress, but soon, item by item, our clothes came off. It wasn't very warm, but we were soon warming each other up. I gave him what he wanted, a very long and thorough fuck. Not quite as long as you this morning, but quite long.
"We had a lovely day together. We ate some lunch and went for a short walk, for about half an hour. Then back in the cottage, we made love again, before returning back to Newcastle. It was a wonderful day, that first visit here. It marked a big step forward in our relationship. We knew that we got on together even better away from the constrictions of life back in Newcastle."
"We have both been very lucky, Inky. You have your Patrick, and I have my Andy. There are so many gay men who would give their eye-teeth to have what we have with our special friends, even though we do not actually live with them."
XXX
Naturally, we slept together that night. Nothing was said, we were both presuming we would do so. Both of us just got into the double bed together, no word of request or invitation.
We cuddled under the duvet for quite a while, talking, and then slowly showing our affection for each other. Inky fulfilled my request and gave me a long highly satisfying old-times-sake fuck.
XXX
Easter Bank Holiday Monday was my last day at Inky's cottage. We went for another long walk. We talked a lot, but nothing significant was added to our stories.
I think we were both pleasantly surprised just how easily we had resumed our old friendship. The thirty year interval was as nothing. I fucked Inky again that night.
We did not linger in bed in the morning, as I had a long drive ahead of me and I wanted to get under way.
Breakfast was slightly sad, and for the first time in my visit there were poignant silences. We were determined to keep in touch, and determined to see each other when we could, but Newcastle and Exeter are at opposite ends of the country. We could not pop round to see each other for a few hours; even my five night stay with Inky just about justified the journey.
We said goodbye at the car. We gave each other a long hug, and exchanged several kisses, then I was into the car and on my way. When I came to the rise from which I had got the first view of Inky's cottage on Thursday afternoon, I opened the window and waved a handkerchief. I could see in the mirror that Inky was still standing outside, and he waved back.
The journey back seemed even longer than the journey up to Northumberland. I stopped a couple of times, and each time sent a text to Andy reporting my progress.
I arrived back home at five o'clock. I unloaded the car and had a quick cup of coffee before walking up to Andy's. He was busy in the cowshed. He had the radio on, he said music helped soothe the cows! I called to him.
We met in the middle of the milking parlour. He was in his usual farming clothes, and smelt it. We did not regard that. We were immediately into each others arms. We kissed.
"Good to be back, where I belong."
"Good to have you back. How did it go, meeting up with Inky after all these years?"
"It went very well indeed. The thirty year gap was as nothing. We did a lot of walking and talking."
"Good, keep you fit. Did you.....?"
"Yes, we did."
A long sad "Oh" came from Andy. "It is what I feared."
"Andy, my love, my lovely Devon farmer partner, you, Andy, are definitely my number one; Inky is my number two."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Yes, Andy, I really mean that."
"Will you be seeing him again?"
"I hope so. And I want you to meet him, and I want to meet his partner Patrick."
"He's got a partner, then?"
"Patrick is his number one, and I suppose I may be his number two, I'm his only other two. You, Andy, are definitely number one for me; Inky is number two."
"Who are lucky boys then, having number twos as well as number ones?"
"Perhaps when I introduce you to Inky, he could become your number two, too." I gave him a kiss to stop him from further questioning, but a definite thought had been sown in my mind.