The story is copyright 1999 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://gay.sexhound.net/iomfats present, and also the email address of email@example.com. I'd love to receive feedback.
Frankly, the trip home wasn't worth describing. It was hot, long bumpy and noisy. It was boring, too. Same compartments on the way back as the way out, so I was with neither Carol, nor with Nigel. Just sharing with the kids I'd shared with on the way down. Do you know, I had never noticed before just how spotty and how gross some kids really are. And how, how immature. Conversations about sex and stuff, the type we'd had on the way down, didn't seem to have any point anymore. They were boasting about it. The girls they'd 'had' on the trip. Which I doubted very much, by the way. It was so boring. And I didn't feel like joining in. Didn't dare even think of joining in.
Not even when they started wondering what it would be like to, as they put it, 'have someone's cock up your ass.' Nothing romantic about their discussion. No love. Just sort of brutal sex. I suppose some people want that sort of thing, but it wasn't my sort of thing. So I shut myself off from everyone, and had a real long think. I had to work out what to do when I got home. When we got home.
I had a lot to think about. Main questions, burning though my brain went along the lines of 'Do I tell my parents that I'm...?' But I didn't get too far with that, coz I wasn't too sure what I was. 'Am I gay? Does making love to Nigel mean I'm gay, or just being a boy?' I mean, boys did things with other boys all right, wanking and stuff. But did they make love? And I didn't just mean the mechanical stuff, I meant love. So it was a pretty odd sort of train ride home. And I didn't come to any conclusions. Well except that I loved Nigel. And that I loved Carol.
What made it difficult was that there were three of us. If Nigel had 'found' me with no Carol, that would have been OK. If there had been no Nigel, that would have been OK, too. You don't miss what you never knew to miss. Selfish, coz Nigel loved me, and had for ages. I couldn't see how to sort it out. Not for three of us, I mean. And those labels. 'Gay', 'Straight', 'Bi'. What did they mean when love was in the equation? Was I gay because I was in love with, and slept with a beautiful boy? And because I also loved and had once slept with a beautiful girl, was I bi? I found that I'd been in a fitful doze for a while. And so it continued, all the way home. The rest of the trip was a bit blurred, really.
As we were nearing home, after a really long trip, I realised that I didn't have Nigel's phone number, or anything. So I went to find him.
As I battled my way down the train corridor, looking out for him, I bumped into Carol.
"Chris, I was looking for you," she smiled. "We've got a lot to work out, and I think I'm going to need your help."
"Reckon you are. Come to that, so am I. I'm not looking forward to Miss Coker talking to your parents."
"Lucky she isn't going to talk to Nigel's parents, too!"
"Evil girl!" And I burst into uncontrollable giggles. "Can you imagine it, taking Nigel's parents on one side (giggle), and telling them (giggle) that he and I and you (giggle) have been, well, er giggling (giggle) together."
"So, how do I face them?" she asked me, serious suddenly.
"Do you really think Trunchbull is going to tell them?"
"Not sure, but if she does?"
"Well, if she does, then we just say that we've been going out for two years, and were just kissing and cuddling."
"And when I said in public that I loved you?" she asked. "What then?"
"Then we just look them in the yes and say 'It's true'. What could be wrong with that?" I sounded pretty positive, but in truth I wasn't sure. "It's amazing how telling parents the truth at times means that they accept a lot of other stuff as well!"
"Well, if life is that simple, what do we do about us? The three of us, I mean"
"You and me, Carol, to start with. And that's hard enough. I love you. If Nigel hadn't come into our lives, into my life, then you would still be my girlfriend. I guess we'd both still be kind of younger...
"Still be your girlfriend!" She interrupted. "You mean I'm not, any longer?"
"No, I mean just be my girlfriend. But we've been more than boyfriend and girlfriend, we're lovers."
"Well, we did make love on the beach, but does that make us lovers?"
"Not just that. I mean everything else. That night in our room with you, me and Nigel was, er, well special, and I reckon that puts us closer together than anyone at all that I know, have known, have even read about."
"Yeah.." She sighed. "Yeah, But it doesn't seem fair. Nor much fun at the moment, either."
I knew what she meant. I wondered if it was that we were going home. Home to parents, to restrictions, to distance between each other. And as I was wondering, the train lurched over the points, and I was thrown into her. Had to grab her to keep my balance. Two kids, boy and girl, thrown together by train. But I held her. Soft in my arms. Vulnerable and strong. Both of us the same. Almost like two otter cubs. Fierce, playful, strong, and so weak at the same time. And she held me, too. Tight. Were we saying 'hello' again, or was this the start of 'goodbye'? If I was gay, then it was goodbye. If I wasn't, then it was hello. But if I was neither? Or both? Or whatever, then what? Then what?
Did I need to know what I was? A week ago I was a kid with a girlfriend, going on a school trip, hoping for a snog, wondering if anything else might be on offer. Today, I wasn't exactly the worldly wise lover, but I had done more than most people do in a lifetime. I had made love on a beach to my girlfriend. I had been to forbidden places with a beautiful boy, been seduced by him, and needed him in my life. I'd felt feelings, emotions, physical feelings, that were so strong that I was scared. Scared and happy. Happy and sad. But I didn't know why I was sad.
And I was in the arms of my girlfriend, wanting to be in the arms of my boyfriend. And my girlfriend also loved my boyfriend. But my boyfriend, my Nigel, beautiful Nigel was just my girlfriend's friend. And he'd hoped he could be more last night. And it all went wrong for him. And he, we, I, she couldn't. Because it had felt wrong, you know, just sex without anything else. No emotions, just sensations.
"No, not much fun." I agreed. "Not much fun." And I held her close, there in the swaying junction between two carriages. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know." And I looked her in the eyes, and I kissed her, holding her tight, and dreaming that we were the only two people on that train.
But we weren't. People pushed by. Then the guard. "Come along young fellow-me-lad. Put the young lady down, and show me your tickets, please?"
"School party," Carol answered, disengaging her lips from mine. "Miss Coker has them. Somewhere back there." And she pointed down the swaying train.
I never did find Nigel, and Carol and I never resolved the problems, not even as were getting off at Victoria Station, and gathering into a group, waiting to be met by our families. A fine mess.
And there was Trunchbull. "Ah, you must be Carol's Mother?" She asked a woman in a floral creation.
"No, her Aunt," said the fabric - a very large tent with a neat aunt inside it. "I've come to pick her up and take her home. Are those your bags, Carol?" She had turned to Carol "Oh yes, sorry, " over her shoulder, "did you want me for something? As Carol's 'Mother' I mean?"
"Er, no," said Trunchbull. "Nothing that's important any more. It doesn't matter."
"I can get my sister to call you?" Aunt (what was Her name?) said, not really seeming to mean it.
"No. It wasn't important." Good old Trunchbull. Came good at last.
I went up to her. "Thank you Miss Coker."
She flushed slightly scarlet. "Well, just don't do it again. Not in front of me, anyway," she smiled and mumbled a bit. "I was a teenager once, too, you know."
Odd woman. But she'd gone up several tens of points in my estimation. Now I had to find Nigel.
And that was made more difficult by the fact that he was looking for me. So we found each other eventually, and, since it was noisy, and we couldn't talk without shouting, I whispered into his ear "I wasn't to see you. Tomorrow"
"OK, but I need your phone number," he mouthed back. I understood somehow.
"I love you!" As loud a whisper as I could manage. And I wrote down the phone number. 0181 246 8072. [Author's note - I made it up. This used to be BT's "recipe of the day" line. I suppose I could have used the number for Gay Switchboard, but I didn't. If someone answers, Chris does not live there, OK?] . "Call me tonight. And Nigel?"
"I wish I could kiss you goodbye...."
"Do we dare?"
"I don't dare."
"No. Nor me... Pity.... Chris?"
"I love you, too.... Don't, er, don't think it was a holiday thing..." He looked downcast. There was too much reality in this station. Too much reality.
So I did almost the unthinkable. No, I didn't kiss him. But I hugged him, kind of man to man, slapping him with my arms onto his back. You know, like you see at the Oscars. "I love you Nigel. Love you. For ever." It was all I dared to do. And I so wanted to kiss him. There, on the station concourse, on the lips, properly, in front of everyone. But I dared not do it.
"Are, there you are, Chris!" My Dad. "Good trip? You look tired. Where's your case? Did you get seasick on the Ferry? Is Carol with you? I met her Aunt. Who's this? Aren't you going to introduce me? Or are you going to hug him to death? Where's Miss Coker? I want to thank her."
And he grabbed my case, and vapourised, not waiting for an answer. I guess dads do that, a bit. And I followed him, shrugging my shoulders to Nigel. I wished he could come home with us. But then I saw his Mum find him, and hug him, and sweep him away, and I knew he was safe. Safe? Jeez, I was worrying if he was safe, in a school party, being met by his relatives.
"So, who was that?" Dad asked at last as we took the train homewards.
"Who was who?" I asked, dreamily, and tired.
"The boy you were hugging the life out of."
"Oh, that was Nigel, my room-mate," I said as casually as I could. "Er, we were just saying goodbye, er 'French style'!" Well it was the best I could think of under the circumstances.
"He seems nice. I haven't seen him before."
"Well, no, I mean we don't really do the same stuff at school. But I got to know him, and he's nice."
"That's good. You've got some holidays left, you know. He could come round if you like?"
Oh God bless dads who can read minds. Well not entire minds, but the public bits. How did he know I wanted to ask if Nigel could come round? How did he know? "Tomorrow might be good?" I suggested. "We still have some trip stuff to work on, and we're working on it together."
"Let's see what Mum has to say. She's missed you, you know. She wanted to come, too, but a couple of last minute things came up. Well Uncle Ron and his latest wife came up unexpectedly, so she's giving them lunch right now."
"Ahh," I said, trying hard to remember who Ron was, and not managing.
The rest of the trip I dozed off. I was happy. Carol was safe. Nigel had almost been invited by Dad, and I was in love. It was just possible that this would turn out all right. Just possible. After a short while we got to our station, Dad unparked the old rustbucket Volvo we owned, and we got home. Mum was so pleased to see me that she squeezed the life out of me.
"It's only been a week, Mum!"
"I know. But you've grown. And you're tanned. And different somehow."
"Er?" 'What has she seen? I'm panicking.' "Different?" 'What can she tell? How can she know about Nigel?'
"Yes. Your hair's got lighter in the sun, I think," she said, ruffling it and kissing me.
And then we had to go through meeting Ron, and I still didn't have the least idea who he was, and his latest wife, who looked like a barmaid to me, and she could have been anybody.
"Does anyone mind if I go and lie on my bed?" I asked.
"No, you go on up," said Mum. "Want a cup of tea?"
"Wouldn't mind. Oh yeah, Can I invite Nigel round tomorrow, Dad says I can?"
"Who's Nigel?" Mums want to know everything
"My room-mate from the trip."
"After lunch, I think," she suggested.
"I'll phone him in a bit. Oh no, I can't. He has our number, but I don't have his." 'Damn,' I thought. 'Damn. Now I have to wait for Nigel to call me. And I was pretty fed up about it. Well, only until Mum brought me a cup of tea, which I drank as soon as it was cool enough. And I lay on my bed, thinking about Nigel.
And as I thought about him, about his silver and gold hair, about his sweet face, the way his muscles moved under his skin; as I thought about him, I found my hands straying towards my crotch, and felt my cock straining to meet them, and could imagine Nigel's touch, there through my jeans, through the heavy denim, through the cloth of my underpants. And I wanted to touch myself so badly it almost hurt, and I wanted to cum, then, there, hugely, just thinking about him, to unzip my jeans, and to explore myself, using my hands and pretending they were his hands....
When I heard the phone ring. But you can't get off a high bunk and sprint downstairs to the phone in no seconds flat. But Mum answered it.
"Chris!" She yelled up the stairs. "Chris! It's for you."
"Who is it?" I was struggling off the bunk. I wish we'd bought the ladder as well as the bunk!
"Don't recognise the voice," she shouted. "Come on, they can't wait all day!"
And I came on. Believe me I came on. I don't remember touching any of the stairs on the way down, but I didn't actually kill myself getting to the phone. "Hello?"
"Guess who?" Came a giggly voice down the line. It wasn't difficult to guess.
"I'm glad you called," I said, "I didn't get your number from you."
"I know, idiot. That's why I phoned."
"My folks say you can come round after lunch tomorrow. Can you? Will yours let you?"
"I don't know if I can wait that long, Chris," he said. "It took me so long to dare to talk to you after I met you for the first time two years ago. I can't bear to be apart, even for today."
"We could go to the park for a kick around."
"Park? Kick around? Are you out of your mind?"
"Or get the Playstation out."
"Playstation? I want to hold you!"
"Yes, or maybe the Scalextric."
"Ahh. Got it. Someone's listening?"
"That's true," I said.
"Mind you, I never heard it called a Playstation before! Will we be able to be alone tomorrow?"
"Only if we play something like Resident Evil! No-one likes the squelches and slurping noises in that!"
"Right, you evil child! Resident Evil it is! And I'm going to kiss you, too! I bet you can't tell me you love me, either."
"You're right. But I want to. And I will. Tomorrow."
"You can't go without blowing me a kiss down the phone."
"You work it out, loverboy, but I want a kiss."
"I think you're gorgeous, and I love you, and I want to make love to you!"
"And you've got the house to yourself, by the sound of it!"
"Well, the study, where the phone is, anyway. So where's my kiss?"
"It isn't possible. It can't be done."
"OK, I'll let you off. There's a penalty, though."
"Nothing until tomorrow." He was laughing.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, and I mean nothing in the way of relief of, er, tension, until I do it for you tomorrow."
"It better be good tomorrow, then!"
"What time shall I come round? And how do I get there? Where are you?"
So we dealt with all the logistics and stuff, and agreed on 2 o'clock.
"Who was that?" Mum asked.
"Nigel. He's coming round tomorrow, at around 2. That's OK, isn't it?" I was suddenly nervous in case she said no.
"That's OK. Dad's at work, I've got a day off."
"We're going to be a bit noisy." I was hoping she'd go out.
"Never mind. I've got all the laundry to do from your trip. Maybe you'll go to the park for a kick-about?"
"We're going to play Resident Evil. In my room, probably." I said.
So I did 'coming home from a school trip' stuff for the rest of the day, and being polite to Ron, sorry Uncle Ron, and his barmaid. And making conversation about France. And I realised that I hadn't seen France. I'd seen Nigel. And Carol. But mainly Nigel. And I went to my room and listened to music for most of the rest of the day, with the volume turned up too loud.
You know when you want time to go fast, so it goes slowly? I even went to bed early, pretty well just after supper, and tried to sleep. Except that, when I got to be, I thought about Nigel. And when I thought about Nigel, I thought about that first night on the trip. And how he had been so brave, and how he had taken me completely by surprise, and seduced me. And how soft his skin was, and how beautiful his hair, and his face, and how his muscles moved under his skin. And how he made me feel so good. And how good his body felt to hold and touch. And as I was thinking this I became aware of a huge need to be with him, and to feel him against my skin, and I felt my cock straining with the thought, and I didn't dare to touch it. And I became aware of a terrible ache in my balls, as though they were too full. Aching as my cock strained upwards. Aching like someone had kicked me hard, and then left me to suffer. I hadn't ever felt this pain before. I didn't know what it was, and I was worried.
But I couldn't go to my Dad and ask what it was. Just think 'Dad, my balls are aching. Eh, oh, nothing, just having sex with Nigel.' Exactly. So I suffered agonies in the mind, and agonies in my crotch. Plus the hugely erect cock that was more than distracting.
In the end, I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was Mum waking me up. ".. time is it?"
"Eleven," she said. "We thought we'd let you sleep. You looked so tired last night."
"Mmm. Thanks. Yeah, I feel better. Hungry, though." I did feel better. No more ache. It had gone in the night. I did have a small problem, though. I couldn't get up for a pee until Mum had gone. Well, not such a small problem, just a morning piss-hard. But she went, so I got up. And tried to choose what to wear. For the first time in my life I was wondering how to dress to impress. What would he like to see me in?
Actually, I didn't have too much choice. "I've put out some clothes for you," Mum called up the stairs. "Bathroom chair!"
So I went to look. Not too bad. T-shirt, jeans, sweatshirt. That was OK. So I got dressed. What I really wanted was a tight T- shirt that was too short, and some really sexy trousers. Or I thought I did.
"I've done the laundry," said Mum. "Will you boys be all right if I go and see Claire this afternoon?" Claire was one of her oldest friends.
"If you leave us something to eat," I answered, trying not to sound excited at having the house to myself, "you can stay out as long as you like."
"I'll leave you some money for a pizza delivery. Don't buy drinks, we've got a fridge full! Now let's get lunch sorted. I want to go just after your friend gets here. What was his name, by the way?"
"Oh, yes. You said. Sorry." And she was off into the kitchen.
A whole afternoon. On my own. With my lover. With Nigel. Oh wow!
And at just before 2, the doorbell rang. And I opened the door to see him. It was almost as though we'd been apart for ages, but also, we didn't quite know how to handle the meeting, coz Mum was there, just behind me.
"Right," she said. "I'm off to Claire's. Back around 7, OK?"
"Yeah, Mum, Have a nice time!"
And she'd gone. And we looked at each other, just standing there, looking, staring, almost for the first time.
"Do you still love me?"
"Nigel, I still love you."
And we stood there, just looking at each other. And stood. For ages. In the hallway. Just inside the front door. "Nigel?" I asked after a lifetime.
"This is real, isn't it? I mean real?"
"It's real, Chris. Are you OK about it?"
"Am I gay?"
"Does it matter if you are?" he asked, looking me straight in the eyes. "Does it matter?"
"Not if I'm with you. Oh Nigel.... Not if I'm with you." And we stood, holding hands this time. His left in my right. My right in his left. Our eyes locked together. As though we'd just met.
"Will you teach me to kiss? I'm not very good at it?" And he was looking at me, smiling shyly, his hair looking like bright cobwebs in the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the stained glass in the door.
"Like girls do?"
"Just like girls do, yes, before a date." And he smiled at me, and moved towards me, and touched my nose with his nose, and moved past it and touched my lips with his. "I love you Chris," he whispered as his lips met mine. "I love you."
And we stood again, kissing this time. Like the first time. Two boys. Lost in each other; lost in time; kissing. "No. It doesn't matter." I found some air, and broke a little away and looked into his eyes. "You make me so happy. Feel so good. Make love to me? Now? Please?"
I led him upstairs, to my room.. The bunk was too high, but I had a bean bag, a huge one, all squashy. "Make love to me here, Nigel. Now. I need you."
He moved towards me, and started, slowly to undress me. "It's real, Chris." And for every piece of my clothing he took off, he took off one of his own, until we were standing there, naked, in front of each other, looking, just looking. Feeling as though it was the first time we'd ever been so naked together. And my eyes travelled from his toes, up his legs to his knees, to his thighs, past his boyhood, standing so proud, pulsing with his heartbeat, to his waist, his stomach and chest, and up his neck to his face. And to his smile. And I kissed him. Now. Urgently, passionately, pulling him towards me, his skin against my skin, grinding his cock into mine, pulling his hips towards me, kissing him hard, so hard, running my hands up and down his back, grabbing his bum and holding each cheek and pulling him to me, feeling almost nervous, but needing him so badly.
So I pulled him down onto the beanbag, and kept holding him, and moved my hands to his cock, and heard him gasp as I touched it, seemingly for the first time, and I peeled his foreskin downwards, down to unveil his beautiful cockhead, just weeping sweet clear slippery pre-cum, and I moved my head down to kiss it, to lick it, to enfold it in my mouth. I think he was as excited as I was. I heard him squeal as my lips touched him, and felt him push, thrust into my mouth as I moved the shaft skin up and down with my lips and tongue working his, working him towards "Wait! Stop. I want this to last!"
So I waited, and he moved his hands over my body. And I felt his lips open around my cock, and his fingers move down between my ballsack and my pucker. And it felt good, so good. So exquisite. And I wanted him so badly. "Fuck me. Please fuck me? I need to feel you inside me. Please fuck me, Nigel. Gently, and for ever?"
"Make me wet, then." His voice was husky and smiling. "Kiss my cock and make me wet." And as I did, I felt his hand slide between my thighs, and his fingers touch my hole, and massage it, making me jerk with anticipation, and he pulled out of my mouth and eased my thighs apart, and touched my hole with the very tip of his cock, and so gently put slight pressure against me, slippery with spit and pre- cum, and ever so gently added to the pressure and gradually as I pushed out at him entered me, hot, throbbing, and so big. And he didn't hurt me at all, just filled me with his boyhood, filling me, pressing that special place, squeezing sensation into my body. "Fuck me hard!" And he started to move, at first gently out, then back in, not quit out then all the way in, generating heat, slipperiness, and the sensations, making me scream in pleasure, yes scream. Alone with Nigel, riding his cock, watching his drive into me, feeling him fill and empty me, then feeling him tense and thrust harder, jerkily, losing rhythm, thrusting, squealing himself and he gripped my waist so hard with his fingers that he felt as though he was bruising me, and he came, came deep inside me, came hard, violently, and hot. And I felt his seed fill me, felt him cum, felt him release himself to me, to be mine. I didn't need to cum. Not then, as I held him close to me, stroked his hair, and lay, face to face, gripping his cock with my muscles, keeping him inside me, tears of joy streaming down my face.
"I want to be yours forever, Nigel. Yours forever... " And we kissed as though we had only just met, though his breathing made it difficult. And lay on my beanbag wondering about, well , everything and nothing.