Story Nine.        A LIFE IN THE CLOSET  by  AARON THE AUSSIE.

 

If you are under 18 you should NOT be here, so DO NOT read on.  Just EXIT NOW.

 

A Life in the Closet is total fiction, but it is very largely based on my life experiences, so quite a lot of it is an attempt at recording in a slightly changed way, some of the significant events in my real life.  And of course, names etc have been changed.

 

Each Story that I have written, ( and I have used that word rather than the word Chapter ) can be read quite independently of all the others, because each is a complete, stand-alone story.  Some are longer than others and some have less or even minimal, if any sex.  But, the basic Gay / Boy Lover theme is there in each story. 

 

However, they are all written from my point of view and I have tried to keep them basically in an order of chronology.  So, they can be read in number order giving, an overview and flow to a significant number of the things that have happened to me over the years.

 

The big life change from ones days as a school student, to the realities of adulthood and responsibility, is the background theme of this story which encompasses the period of my early employment and my attendance at College with a view to study to achieve a good professional qualification. It really comprises two separate short sub stories.   

 

I have tried to make each story interesting and as sexy as possible, whilst keeping them all as REAL as I could, particularly as regards things like; the language used, the ages of those involved, the time period relevant to that particular story and the prevailing attitudes of the community at the time.

 

For convenience, all of my Stories have been placed in a single Directory in the: Gay, Adult / Youth Category.  In addition in the case of this Story, the "College" and "Adult Friends" categories are also relevant.    

 

All of my Stories are completed and I don't plan to make any changes to them, but like all authors I love feedback and I would still be very interested in your comments.  So, please email me at:  aarontheaussie@bigpond.com

 

Also...Just a reminder that Nifty needs our financial support.  Please help with what you can, if you can.  Every bit helps, no matter how small.

 

So... Here goes I hope you find this story OK.

 

Aaron.

 

 

MY FIRST EMPLOYMENT – AND TERTIARY STUDIES.

 

WORK.

 

"Come on Aaron" said Norman, "It's lunch time and I need to get going because I'm supposed to be meeting these birds at the Pub Bistro in ten minutes".

 

There were four of us 18 year olds working together as a team; Norman, Barry, Oliver and I, each employed under the firms Accounting Traineeship Scheme.  Our supervisor Don who was in his early thirties was fully qualified both in Accounting and as a Trainer.

 

I had worked with each of the other three in the team and of course with Don on various jobs and we had all gotten to know each other fairly well.

 

Being my first job, I was keen to make a good impression and during the four months or so I had been employed so far, I was feeling basically pleased with my progress.  We Trainees worked three and a half days a week and we were allowed a day and a half each week to pursue our studies at College. 

 

Norman was a pain and although I tried, I didn't much like him at all. I found working with him difficult at times, because it seemed to me he was just plain lazy. Present circumstances were a good example.  It was in fact a good 15 to 20 minutes before the start of our normally scheduled lunch period and that was sufficient time to finish what we had been working on, which was nearly complete, if I could just get his co-operation.  But, he had spent most of the morning messing about whilst I did most of what we were supposed to be doing together and at one stage he was missing for about 30 minutes. I subsequently learned that he had been busy "Chatting Up" one of the girls in the front office.

 

The Firm was based in the city where we spent most of our time. But, there was generally at least a day, sometimes more a week, spent on jobs for Client Businesses located out in suburbia and Don wanted to take me out with him to visit a new Client business that afternoon.  That's why I was concerned to fully finish the current job before lunch.  Normans attitude to everything seemed to be "That's good enough" or "finish it later".

 

We Didn't get the job finished and I vented my frustration on Norman, but he went off to meet his birds at the Pub Bistro, seemingly without caring less.  I headed to the lunch room, stopping off at the men's room on the way.

 

Having relieved myself, I was hand washing at the basins, when a toilet flushed and a young adolescent boy of perhaps 11 or 12 came out of one of the cubicles. He wore a school uniform including an impressive blazer displaying the pocket logo of a prestigious Private School and he was a nice looking kid.

 

As he came to the basin beside mine to wash his hands, he nodded and said, "Hello".  I responded with a Hi and then he said,  "Do you work for my Dad?"  

 

"Who's that?" I asked.

 

"Oh his name is Stan Hamilton and he's the Senior Partner here. I'm Howard, Howard Hamilton".

 

"Well Howard, I'm very pleased to meet you. My name is Aaron and yes I work here, but I'm a very new and junior Trainee, so at this stage I'm a nobody. Your Dad will never have heard of me! ... And what are you doing here?"

 

"I'm just starting a program of Orthodontic appointments my Dad has arranged with a Specialist.  I've just had my first session ... "YUK' and I'm told it will mean being here every Wednesday at this time for some months.

 

As we left the Men's room together, Howard said, "I'm headed to Dads Office now to have lunch with him and then I understand that a bloke named Don, is going to drop me back at school on the way to a job... So, nice to meet you Aaron, see ya!"  and he extended his left hand.

 

I took and shook it, impressed with the firmness of his grip. Then I said,  "A left hand shake, are you a Scout?"

 

"I am actually, are you?" he said with a broad smile.

 

I confirmed that I was and as we went our separate ways I told him that we might see each other again soon, knowing that I would be with Don.

 

Barry and Oliver were both in the lunch room and I sat with them.

 

Barry was quiet and studious like me and he and I worked well together. He was the one of the other three Trainees in the team I liked most. Quick I thought, at doing and at comprehending things, with skill and natural aptitude for the work.

 

Oliver was nice enough too and he and I also worked well enough together. He was certainly the suave, best dressed and best looking member of the team, But he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, making him tend to be critical of everyone and to generally have a derogatory attitude.

 

As we started to talk I mentioned my frustration with Norman and explained what had been happening. I just got a sympathetic and understanding nod from Barry, but Oliver commented to the effect that Norman was a complete "fuckwit" who needed to watch himself if he wanted to keep his job.

 

In passing a little later, I also mentioned having bumped into Howard Hamilton, indicating that he seemed a nice kid and I was stupid enough ( I should have known better ) to say that he was a Scout and to tell them how I knew this.

 

"Poor little rich kid" said Oliver, "Typical to rub your nose in the fact that he's the son of the big boss, as if his shit doesn't stink!... He probably spends all his time at Scout Camp in his Scout Leaders tent, sucking up to him and being buggered by him".

 

Until then I had not struck this kind of derogatory talk about Scouting, much before, but this was typical "Oliver Talk" and I didn't like it, because he made it sound like all Scout Leaders were a pack of poofters trying to get into the pants of every pretty little boy they could, which was definitely not my experience.

 

He often made similar remarks too about Priests and others and poor Barry, who had attended a Catholic High School where there had been an issue about a Brother, tended to bite when Oliver's comments were about the Catholics.  On this occasion I saw Barry turn his face away at the comments. He clearly didn't want to get involved, even though his face was showing some disgust at what had just been said.

 

 Oliver knew that I had been heavily involved in Scouting and his regular remarks on these subjects, always along similar lines and made often, were clearly designed to niggle us and get us to bite. 

 

I was definitely not going to bite at his comments, but as our lunchtime conversation continued I managed to make it clear that as far as I was concerned, Howard was just your typical youngster being friendly.

 

Howard got quite a shock when I turned up with Don to drop him back at his School on the way to our Job that afternoon.  But he continued to be friendly and to chat with both of us in the car on the way and I decided that I quite definitely liked him, even if he was the son of the big boss.

 

Howard told me that he had told his Dad about me and his Dad had said that he would definitely make a point of introducing himself to me.  After we dropped him off at School, Don said to me, "Don't hold your breath son, because I had been working for this firm for ages before I even got introduced to Stan Hamilton and even now, I only really ever get to say "Hello" or "Yes Sir" or "No Sir" to him. He's a bit aloof for the likes of us!"

 

We assessed the new job together that Wednesday afternoon and agreed that it needed one person for a half day weekly and that Wednesday Afternoons fitted Dons Training Plan quite well. But, he decided that at least initially, he would allocate the job to Oliver, as he needed me more elsewhere.

 

On the way back to the office, remembering Oliver's lunch room comments, I asked Don if Oliver would have responsibility for dropping Howard off at school regularly each week, whilst he was still going to his orthodontist.  Don said he didn't know, but probably.

 

Don went to the job with Oliver the following week and they dropped Howard off again.  After that I gather that the task of dropping Howard off did fall to Oliver and despite the comments he had made to us initially, Oliver seemed to be quite content to do it, although he sometimes referred to Howard as "That little Shit".

 

Meanwhile I bumped into Howard at the office a few more times and he continued to be as friendly as ever.  We managed to chat briefly about Scouting a couple of times and that appeared to put a seal on what seemed to be a blossoming friendship between us. 

 

Howard never made any comment to me about or a mention of Oliver at any time, so I assumed they were getting on OK. However, one Wednesday Howard invited me, apparently at his Father's invitation to join them for lunch in his Father's Office. We seemed to get along famously and after that Stan Hamilton seemed to keep a friendly and kind of fatherly eye on me.  I was intrigued that as far as I knew Oliver never got such an invitation, despite the fact that he was also involved regularly for some months as Howard's semi-official personal chauffeur.

 

000

 

Time and then some years passed and not long after completing my Traineeship, my "Professional Year" and my formal qualifications, at age about 25, I qualified as a "Trainer" and was appointed to a position similar to the one Don had held.  By then I felt that I had reasonable respect as a valued employee and that I was an important cog in the wheel of the business of the Firm.

 

And by then, I was the only one of my original team of 4 Trainees who remained with the Firm.  Oliver was the first to go, somewhat suddenly and without any explanation.

 

Norman was next and hopefully, his dismissal was a wakeup call for him on his attitude to his responsibilities.

 

Barry had resigned more recently having completed his Traineeship and qualifications, to marry a country girl and take up a position with a firm in her home town in the south west of the State.

 

By then Howard was 18 and as per expectation he had just joined the firm as a Trainee, under my supervision.  We had remained occasional friends until then and despite the years that have passed since and the fact that he is now the Senior Partner, we still remain very good friends today.

 

It was some years on, that Howard confided to me that Oliver had lost his job way back then, because one Wednesday while taking him to school, Oliver had made unwanted advances, which Howard had rejected. He said that Oliver had then tried to force himself on him and Rape him.

 

Howard said that rather than involving the Police, his Father Stan at his own expense, had tried to get Oliver some help and it apparently emerged that as a child he had been extensively abused at his exclusive Catholic private boarding school.  The same Teacher / abuser had apparently also run the Scout Troop attached to that same school.

 

Although Oliver lost his job, no legal action was ever taken against him over the issue.  Howard and his Father were more concerned for Oliver than one might have expected in the circumstances and as I understood it from Howard, the counselling they got for him helped and Oliver eventually married and the last Howard had heard, was getting his life into some sort of order.

 

COLLEGE.

 

The college campus I attended to complete my professional qualifications was located in an inner city area just outside the business centre of the city itself and although it suited my purposes, it could be described on one hand as very old and grotty, but on the other as now being somewhat dignified and traditional, as it had operated as a College for many years.  In fact collectively the various solid old sandstone buildings within and inclusive of its high boundary walls had started life in our Colonial Times as the Settlements first major Prison.

 

The residential area around the campus was also very old and in places, a bit seedy. It had been very much a working class area for years, but at the time I was attending College it was becoming a bit trendy. It was at that time that our sexual revolution was getting into full swing and the area was also very much becoming the hub of the emerging "Gay" scene.

 

Despite my sexual preference for boys and my prior experiences, I was still totally naïve about that emerging Gay scene and very much "In the Closet".  I was still pretending that I could eventually overcome my deviant sexual tendencies and lead a normal life, comprising a girl, marriage, a family, etc.

 

At 18 I was still slim and I thought, reasonable looking despite glasses and I seemed to have some attraction for the girls I knew, even though I didn't particularly encourage them. So I was trying to keep that pretence alive.

 

What I did notice when walking through the area on my way to and from College, was that "Adult" shops were starting to spring up.  I had a friend who had shown me some Gay Novels and magazines, so I knew that these places were emerging and what you could get from the right source.  Despite this, it still took me a long, long time to eventually find the courage to actually go into one for the first time and look about.

 

Even then, I was very disappointed because, although what they had was interesting, that shop appeared to cater exclusively for those interested in hetero, straight sex and porn only.

 

By the time I found a shop offering the Gay books and magazines I wanted, I didn't find it quite so hard to have the courage to go in. But then I had to be bold enough to actually buy what I saw, as this disgusting contraband.

 

I remember my first purchases, 2 novels and a magazine and my concern that as I sneaked as surreptitiously but as quickly as I could from the shop, I might actually be seen and that then everyone in the world would know just how disgusting I was.  Further, there was nothing you could buy not sealed in plastic, so if the content did not live up to what the cover had you expecting and you found it unsatisfying, especially considering what you had to pay, it was just bad luck, money wasted... And it often was!!

 

The day I made those first purchases, I rushed off to the College, desperate to get to the toilets near my lecture rooms in Building 6 so that I could lock myself away in a cubical, tear the plastic from the magazine and loose myself in its pages.

 

I had allowed myself plenty of time for this, as my afternoon lectures were still over an hour away at 2.00pm.  Alas, I arrived to find the toilets closed for cleaning and maintenance and a cleaner suggested I use the old toilet block attached to Building 8B just down the walkway a bit.

 

I had never been in that building ( which appeared to cater to "Artsey" type classes; Painting, Pottery, etc )  and found that I had to navigate my way through a maze of passageways right out to the back of the building where this very old "stand alone" Men's toilet block was located in a small back  courtyard type area.

 

I went in, selected a cubical and began to settle down to look at my magazine, when I started to become more aware of my surroundings.  In those days, any and every Men's Toilet had its lurid drawings and graffiti and I always enjoyed it all. But this cubical was not typical. It was magical.

 

Absolutely every tiniest skerrick of wall and door space was intricately covered with graffiti and drawings which were extensive. Further, many were not just drawings, they were magnificent and very realistic artworks... extremely lurid Gay artworks, but brilliantly done.

 

I thought to myself, these must have taken a lot of time to draw and some of the Stories hand printed in tiny fonts were extensive too. They took up large areas and must have also taken a lot of time to write and I thought that examining all this carefully was going to take me a great deal of time

( and undoubtedly a lot of hand exercise as I jacked off )

 

So I made a start, magazine at least temporarily forgotten and became so absorbed that in a blink it was time to go to my lecture. Where had that hour gone?  These toilets didn't seem to be being used much and nobody was around when I was leaving, so I briefly checked out the other several cubicles and found them every bit as magical as the one I had been in. God I thought, I could spend a lifetime in here and not get bored and I decided to come straight back after my lectures to spend some more time.

 

Amazingly, when I got back at about 4.30pm, every cubical was apparently engaged and men were standing around presumably waiting their turn.  I joined them and waited at least 10 minutes before one person finally exited one of the cubical and was immediately replaced by one of those waiting. Several of those already waiting when I arrived were still waiting and I found it too embarrassing to wait any longer, so I left thinking that the wait could go on and on.

 

During the next several months I spent a lot of time at that old Toilet Block, in a cubical during the earlier hours of the day when it seemed to have little usage and hanging out waiting with all the others later in the afternoon.

 

It seemed to me that this later afternoon / evening period when the block was alive with activity was clearly the gathering time and place for all the local Gay Guys, just like a "Happy Hour"!

 

What was happening each evening behind every cubical door seemed to be much more than normal usage or even just guys masturbating.  There was a lot of moaning and groaning and sucking type noises and as the doors didn't extend fully to the floor, it was often apparent that there were multiple sets of feet in single cubicles. Further, as time passed the action all became much more open and blatant, to the point where a cubical door would open, someone one would leave and someone would be beckoned to join the person or persons still in there.

 

Considering the number of late afternoons when I would spend at least some waiting time there, I only ever got to go into a cubical a couple of times and on each of those I found it too scary to stay long, because of the things I saw happening through the glory holes on each side of me, especially when I was quite turned off by some of those I saw looking through at me, gesturing at me in crude ways or trying to get at me with hands stretched out under partitions. I was also a little revolted by the amount of what I assumed was sperm everywhere in the cubicles.

 

And at times, things even happened amongst those waiting.  A person would stare intensively at someone else until receiving an acknowledging gesture of some kind. Then they would step up to the old urinal together, have a quick grope of each other and if happy, leave together, perhaps holding hands. Yet not a word had been uttered  

 

My great difficulty was that I was very, very turned on by the idea of everything that was happening, but very turned off by its reality or at least by most of the actual participants.  When I think sex, I think youthful and good looking. These people with few exceptions were much older than me and seemed to be bearded or dirty looking, tattooed, roughly dressed, hippy types or at least people in that mould. So I rarely saw anyone who turned me on and I was unable to connect at all with the 1 or 2 that did appeal to me.

 

Talk about a frustration, it was like being addicted, I didn't like it, but I couldn't stop wanting it.

 

Then finally, I found myself being watched through one of the glory holes during one of my earlier in the day, pre lecture stints in one of the cubicles and looking back I saw a person that seemed to have some appeal to me. Although he was a little older, he was nice enough looking, seemed clean and to have a nice looking cock.

 

He left and when I followed I found him waiting for me and he asked me to join him at his place for some fun.  I agreed although a little nervously and with some reservation as I didn't know him at all.

 

As we left the College and took a complex series of grotty looking, back streets heading to where he said he lived, he introduced himself as Ian.

 

His single room flat was also pretty grotty and I didn't feel all that comfortable or happy. But, as soon as we were inside he stripped completely and asked me to get naked too.  He kept on telling me how beautiful a body and cock I had and I quickly found myself with him on his bed, which was unmade, in a 69 style clinch as we sucked away at each other.

 

His cock was nice, but his sheets were dirty and a bit smelly and I was feeling a need to finish him off quickly and get out of there. But, then he said,  "Don't cum, because I need you to fuck the shit out of me hard and give me your load, right up the bum.

 

Although I had been fucked once by a bloke myself, I wasn't really into anal sex and I had never ever been the one fucking. I had never done it to someone else, so I was a bit shocked and he must have seen that I was, because he said quickly,  "Don't worry I have a French Letter and if you prefer, you can put your load into it. I'll even put it on for you, just so long as I get a really good fucking".

 

I'd heard of a French Letter, but I'd never seen let alone used any kind of a condom before. So I watched in fascination as he put it on me and was actually quite pleased, because I was not at all sure that he was going to be all that clean up there.

 

The idea of sticking it up him wasn't all that appealing and my main worry was that I might lose my erection while trying to put it in. But, he told me he could take it and to shove it in hard, so I did.  I got off the bed, lifted his legs up and over my shoulders and went in like a battering ram.  I got it right in straight away and started to pump immediately.  Once I got into a rhythm, it was starting to feel more enjoyable and as I progressed it got to feeling better and better.  Then I was pumping harder and he was whimpering and groaning and telling me how fantastic I was and how great it felt to him.

 

His prick had withered and I took it in one hand and started to manipulate it back to semi hardness. Then I started to pump it as I gradually increased the speed and intensity of my assault.  Soon the rhythm of my fucking action and my pumping hand on his cock were in sync and I could feel my climax approach as I further increased speed.

 

He was clearly close too and when they came, our explosions were virtually in unison.  It was amazing and I enjoyed it far more than I had expected I would.  We both took a little time to recover and when I withdrew fully I couldn't believe how full the rubber was.

 

Despite the success of my visit, I still then wanted to get away quickly and without any commitment to having to see Ian again. Even now, if you asked me why?, I still couldn't explain it. But, although Ian was overflowing with enthusiasm and wanting to plan further get togethers, I just didn't feel at all comfortable

 

As it happened, I succeeded in getting away. But, during the weeks that followed I came to regret my rashness and wished I could see him again, because my memory of the event was just so good and it seemed to get better as time passed.  But, I wasn't game enough to go back to his place, assuming I could find it again, and we never did cross paths again.

 

It was only a matter of a couple of weeks later when doing one of my pre lecture time early visits to my favourite Toilet Block, I found a major change. Every door had been permanently taken completely off every cubical and the interior of the whole block and all of the cubicles had been painted a pristine white.  There was nothing at all left of what had been there and despite my continued attendance at the College over time, I never ever saw any further similar action there or anywhere else on the campus.  I did hear that there had been a Police Raid. But, it was just a rumour about which I could glean no detail.  If there was one, thank god that I wasn't hanging out there at the time!!

 

So for the rest of my time at College, I had to make do with the Novels and Magazines I purchased now and then, surreptitiously when I felt I could justify their cost, from a local Gay Adult Bookshop.

 

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