This story is entirely fictional, based on the author's fantasies. The characters, however, have some base in real life and so the the names have been changed for their protection. This story contains explicit gay sex between consenting males of legal age in the country of origin. If you don't like the subject or are not legally permitted to read it, you have been warned. Don't read any further.

by N Fourbois

Part I


This is an epilogue, and though spatially in the wrong position, temporally it is in the right place. It is Sunday, 19 March 2000. I notice I started to write this work on Saturday, 12 April 1997, almost three years ago and before my retirement. The kernel of an idea was there, but it did not really grow until after more than two years of musing in the late summer of 1999, and it is only today that I have come to realise why I had to write it. To take a phrase from a Channel Four programme about the film A Clockwork Orange I have been in 'a state of catharsis'. I have purged my mind and soul of a lot of emotion. To begin with I felt drained, but now I can look forward. I can now form new ideas. I wrote it originally for myself and for nobody else. Now I can publish it, albeit anonymously. I can now go forward relieved of the emotional baggage. Despite two lacunae I don’t think I have any more to add and in any case it has already gone far beyond the nineteen thousand words which cover my original intentions. Dearest Matthew, this œuvre is dedicated in its entirety to you, but you must never read it.

This is a work of pure fiction, based on characters who have impinged on my life and dealing with gay male consensual sex. If that is not to your taste, don't read it! The names have been changed and no attempt should be made to match them to any person living or dead.

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Blue I have always found to be a fascinating colour, the azure blue of our sky at its clearest and deepest, and at higher latitudes the turquoise blue of the Nordic sky, the blue of such flowers as meadow cranesbill, germander speedwell, forget-me-not and alkanet. Blue is the colour of the reserved, its message 'Keep off!' White is another favourite, but the scientists will say that it is not a colour, but a mixture of all the colours of the spectrum. White traditionally represents innocence, the white of Wimbledon, the white of English rugby before the marketing men changed it, the white of the young gymnast. But white has been constantly associated with some of my darkest, most private thoughts. The love that dare not speak its name, as it has been called. However, it was seeing him dressed in white that I discovered my attraction to Matthew. Attraction? Affection? Love? Adoration? Fixation? Passion? Infatuation? Obsession? All these words apply, but I know better than to resist any of them.


At eight o’clock one fine June morning I drew up in the car outside his house in the Cotswolds. He was ready. We put his cases into the boot and waved a cheery goodbye to his parents, then drove off towards Heathrow. This was the first stage of our journey to the Alps. He was dressed in his accustomed immaculate way in a blue short-sleeved cotton shirt creased in all the right places, a pair of well washed, well fitting Levi 501s, loose at the waist and bulging at the crotch, and sandals. His hair was shining perfection cut to give that keen edge to his face on which was his customary cheerful smile. We are taught not to expect perfection on Earth, but this was defied in a most natural way by Matthew.

He had needed little persuasion to join me on this Bildungsreise for a couple of weeks to Switzerland. Its final reality was the inevitable result of our growing fondness for one another, an attraction that was in no way forced by either of us. It was clear that the bond was such that the education would be comprehensive, not just intellectual, but sensual and physical, the culmination of over three years' acquaintance that had grown into mutual understanding and affection. This was our first opportunity to be alone with one another without the constraints of society. For a fortnight we were free agents.

Our progress eastwards through the winding country roads was leisurely. Our flight was not until one and the light traffic would not impede our progress. His father had told me a few days ago how much Matt was looking forward to the break. He had been totally open about his feelings and his parents were grateful that they would find expression under my guidance and so it was with their full blessing that we set out on that glorious day in early summer.

It was not long before Matt was resting his hand on the inside of my thigh. Thank goodness for automatics. Slowly his fingers began to stroke, then his whole hand. I felt as if my slip had suddenly shrunk, but it was a question of relativity. My slip had not shrunk, my packet had expanded with a longing throb. I glanced down at Matt. I could not believe that the bulge in his Levi's was capable of expanding further, but that is the way I like to be proved wrong. The road was empty, but conscious of our safety I simply said "Later" and we continued our journey reaching the airport with plenty of time to park and check in.

The flight arrived on time at Zurich. We fetched our luggage and went to pick up the hire car. It was an MG convertible, blue in colour, two seats and room enough for our cases. While it was odd using my right hand for the gear stick in this left-hand drive car, it had the advantage of seating Matt on my natural side. We headed for the motorway following the signs for Berne. From there we would travel south into the Bernese Oberland where we had rented a chalet on the mountainside overlooking Lake Thun within easy reach of the railway at Spiez. It was like an outhouse hotel, for while we were the only occupants we were served breakfast at a pre-arranged time by the neighbouring owner and could with due notice eat any other meals in or out. It was about seven when we picked up the keys and unloaded. Normally other people might be staying there, but it was early season and we knew we would have the house to ourselves for a fortnight. So we had the freedom of the ground floor, a sitting room with television and hi-fi, and a large comfortable ensuite bedroom with choice of shower or bath, everything spacious with comfortable furniture. We quickly unpacked and showered, for tired though we were from the journey we would go to a local inn for a bite to eat. The day had kept its warmth. It would not get dark until about ten, so we dressed casually. Matt was wearing light khaki Chinos with a razor sharp crease and a pale green polo shirt. He is one of those fortunate beings who makes all his clothes look as if they were personally tailored for him. Perhaps they were. He could carry out a day's decorating followed by a quick run over an assault course and still appear ready to greet the monarch. We climbed into the car and motored off towards town.

As it was getting late we stopped at the first Gasthof we came to. The menu was reasonable, so we went in and sat down. Matt drank a large beer while I had some apple juice and soda water, einen gespritzten Apfelsaft. It was not long before our pork arrived. "How would you gentlemen like your pig doen this evening?" I had a Jägerschnitzel while Matt took his nach Wiener Art. Travelling is tiring and the day was catching up with us. We decided that after the meal we would go back to the chalet and straight to bed. In the morning we would have an easy day, perhaps travel into Berne and take it from there. By half past ten we were back at base, ready to slip under the duvet and crash out for the night. I slept through and woke up about half past six to find that Matt had left his own bed and crawled into mine. The big test is always what it is like to wake up in the morning next to the person you had been out with the night before and we had obviously both gained alpha grades. He was also awake, his left arm around me and he leaned over, said "Good Morning" and buried his tongue amongst my tonsils. I immediately reacted, feeling stiffer than I had done for months. I slipped my left hand down from his armpit towards his waist to discover that he had taken off his shorts. Not wishing to hurry anything I put my hand on his knee and stroking the inside of his thigh gradually slid my hand up into his groin to caress his bollocks with my thumb. He groaned and explored my mouth again with his tongue. Taking this as a form of assent I felt his hardened cock, so hot that I thought it would burn my hand which it dwarfed. His foreskin was peeled right back and for a moment I wished I could have broken that back earlier in his life. I stroked his bum and said "I’ve got a better idea."

I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I wanted to prepare myself by washing and shaving. When I had done this, I called out that I was getting into the shower. He didn't need telling twice. He was out of his bed in a trice and even dishevelled after a night's sleep he was sheer beauty. Dressed he sends my heart skipping, but naked he appeared as one of those thoroughly blessed by the Almighty. Imagine a slim, but well developed body. The six-pack he had been cultivating since the age of thirteen had developed to perfection, his abdomen was absolutely flat. There was not a hair on his upper body apart from a slight growth under each arm. His nipples were well shaped and standing erect. His pubic hair was a short compact tuft above his cock and his groin was otherwise hairless. By now his cock was hanging limp, easily six inches, and his bollocks of commensurate size hung loosely and bulging away from his body, pushing his cock forward. I had always admired his packet, enhanced by such a slim torso, but for me this was the first time since before his puberty I had seen the packet unwrapped. I was not disappointed and the contents were sheer perfection.

He climbed into the shower with me and I adjusted the flow and temperature of the water. This was the first time we had been naked together and it was a moment to savour. While I could not emulate the peak of his physical perfection I hoped he would not be disillusioned, for what I lacked in stature I am sure I could compensate for in experience. We both took a handful of shower gel and started to soap the other up. A frisson went through our bodies and brought on an immediate erection. I took the shampoo and thoroughly caressed his hair. It was his hair that had from the first instant attracted me and everything else quickly fitted into place. After washing his hair I stood behind him, gelled his crevice and my cock, put my arms round him so that we were so close that I could rub my cock up and down his crevice without penetrating and I then proceeded to gel his groin. And that was the moment I started to toss him off gently. The pleasure made him press his buttocks even tighter against my cock and his ecstasy was clear. With his foreskin back and my hand well gelled I could gently knead his glans, something he had never tried for himself and something which for him was the height of pleasure. He warned me he was coming and as his spunk splatted out onto my hand, the orgasm that went through his whole body made me come simultaneously. I turned him round and with our arms round each other’s waist and our hands fondling each other’s buttocks I gave him a long French kiss, just letting the warm water trickle over us before we cleaned ourselves up and got out of the shower. We dried each other off briskly with the rough towels and went back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Matt selected a white Lycra thong which lifted and emphasised his packet and left his buttocks bare. Over that he put on a white cricket shirt and white rugby shorts which had a stunning effect. It would take my whole willpower to keep my hands off him all day. To this he added his sandals and for the cool of the early morning he donned a white pullover which would sometimes cover his packet and at others teasingly give just a glimpse. He was a master of the art and he knew it. We then went for breakfast.


We caught the bus into Spiez and then the train to Berne. We were lucky enough to get onto the German ICE on its journey from Interlaken to Hamburg. We had taken a first class Swiss Pass just to add that little bit of luxury. Living in a rural area Matt had had little contact with railways, but over the following weeks the Swiss were going to awaken in him an avid interest which I was pleased to promote. Once in Berne we looked round the huge station and then walked out to the main shopping street.

A short walk brought us to the Zytglogge, one of the symbols of Berne. We looked at the statues and the fountains and wandered down under the arcades towards the bear pit. The bears were performing their tricks as ever for rewards thrown by the spectators. We caught the trolley bus back to the centre and walked over the bridge to the Botanical Garden. Back in the centre we visited the Parliament building and walked through the back streets to the cathedral. Finally before returning to the station we bought a few presents to take home, 'so that we could come again', and Matt did a little personal shopping, impressed by the Swiss teenage fashions. I can only admire his taste. After a light lunch we took the train to Solothurn where we made a quick tour of the town and walked over the bridge past the church with the crooked spire and onto a river boat for a leisurely trip, sunning ourselves, to Biel. An icecream in this bilingual German and French town and then the train back to Berne and on to Spiez.

We arrived at the chalet about half past six, so it was time for a quick shower and a change of clothes before going out for dinner. Matt wore a pair of light grey slacks, pale blue shirt and tie and a linen jacket. I wanted to take him to a particular restaurant in Spiez which hardly appeared attractive to tourists from the outside, but which served marvellous food more for the locals. One of the specialities was Rossschnitzel and I felt Matt deserved this delicacy. The large horse steak arrived on a sizzling iron platter slotted into a wooden tray on which the chips and vegetables all had their place. The Chef stood over us to make sure we had enjoyed our meal. I was not disappointed for Matt joined in the spirit of eating horse. He is always prepared to try something new and has such a positive attitude to everything around him. Perhaps this was the key to his happy and cheerful nature. After such a relaxing day there was nothing to hurry for so we took our time over the meal. We took the car down to the lake and then a stroll in the evening sun to help digest our meal. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains we returned to the car and drove slowly back to the chalet.

We took off our jackets and ties. I opened a bottle of red wine and we settled down on the sofa together to watch a video of the The Boys on the Rock. The film was entertaining enough in itself, but as we sat there, our arms round each other, we stroked, caressed and petted with the occasional lingering French kiss during the political bits. My hand did what it had been longing to do all day. First it unbuttoned Matt's shirt a little more to caress his nipples. What had started off flat, flush to his chest, was now full of blood standing proud. Matt shifted to adjust his trousers as his soft packet hardened and bulged. I shifted his right hand onto mine, while my left hand slipped down between his legs, stroking his thigh and working its way up into his groin. As the film finished he rolled over on top of me, once more burying his tongue down my throat while our packets pressed and ground together with delight. Close to twelve it was time to go to bed. We changed into identical towelling shorts which had velcro fastenings at the sides of the waistband and long slits at the sides.

We both climbed into my bed and lay there holding each other, kissing, cuddling, caressing, exploring. I massaged a little baby oil into his left nipple which brought both up to size and then bent over his chest to kiss, suck and lick his right one. Meanwhile my hand was inside his shorts stroking his massive bollocks and finally ripping open the velcro fastenings so that his shorts fell away. I threw back the duvet so that I could see what I was doing. I pulled Matt's foreskin back, fingered a little baby oil under the glans and proceeded to jerk him off, gently at first, but faster as his groaning and pleasure increased. Finally he came, the only warning a sharp inhalation of breath, and his hot spunk shot straight into my face. I licked it off, savouring it while Matt just lay back, obviously exhausted and suddenly sound asleep. I stripped my shorts off, let my stiffy subside without further ado, put the light out, pulled the duvet over us and dozed off.

We awoke at half past six in an embrace, both with a pisshard. In turn we disappeared into the bathroom and came back to bed. Now it was my turn for I realised that despite all our activity I had not yet had much of the action and I had resisted doing it myself when I had such an effective sex machine lying next to me. We started a reverse version of the previous evening, but when Matt's hand reached my balls he threw back the duvet, got me to lie on my back, my hands behind my head, while he knelt over me skilfully performing a hand job on my bursting cock. His own cock had stiffened to its proud full length which he was manipulating with his other hand. I just lay back my eyes closed. I had never experienced such a feeling as he produced and as I came I heard the thwoup of my spunk against his chest. I finished him off. We cleaned ourselves up and lay there in each other’s arms for a few minutes.

It was time to get up in order not to waste the God given day. We showered in turn and got dressed. Matt had put on a pale blue version of the new cricket kit, something completely strange to Swiss fashion. As always it suited him extremely well. Even the baseball cap made him look rakish and to complete the image you could even see the outline of a jockstrap under his trousers. To me this was the correct kit for pocket billiards rather than cricket. Again a call for self-control. Then we went off to breakfast.


Today would entail a lot of travelling. We were going to venture into the Ticino, but the scenery would justify the time it took. We took the train over the Lötschberg. Again our luck was in for we managed to catch the Italian Pendolino. It was a strange sensation as it raced up towards Goppenstein to feel it tilting first one way and then the other and even stranger to look out of the window as we went round the curves to see the front tilting to port while the rear tilted to starboard. We stopped briefly in Brig and then on through the Simplon tunnel to Domodóssala in Italy.

From there we transferred to the connecting train on the Centovalli line which would take us through some breathtaking scenery over awesome viaducts and end up back in Switzerland at Locarno. We climbed out of the valley and saw the ugly sprawl of Domodóssala below us. Because of the narrow gauge and the gradients we barely reached forty miles per hour, but the compensation was looking down into the wild gorges. We stopped for a customs check, then at Ribellasca passed over yet another viaduct into Swiss Calpedo. It was now downhill to Locarno. We climbed out of the underground station, took the obligatory photo of each other standing under the bus stop signs of the 'FART' and went off for some well deserved refreshment by Lake Maggiore. It was now decision time for we could return by the same route or by the much longer round trip over the Gotthard taking in the spectacular loops as we went down the north side of the pass. time being of little importance we returned to the station, took the train to Bellinzona and changed to go down to Lugano, a larger town and perhaps with a little more style. It was time for lunch and then off to the Lake where we embarked for a cruise to Gándria, a village built into the mountainside and only accessible from the water. After exploring the village and its shops we took in an icecream and returned to the boat station for the return trip to Lugano. We looked in the shops there and leisurely made our way up to the station for the return trip. The ride on the Gotthard line lived up to every expectation as I pointed out the loops and the amazing engineering on the line. It meant that we wouldn't reach Zurich until about eight, so we decided to treat ourselves to a meal in the restaurant car on the express from Zurich to Berne. The time passed quickly and it was getting dark as we caught our connection to Spiez.

As we had had a physically lazy day we decided to walk back to the chalet to make up for it with a more demanding day on the morrow. Matt said he would go for a run in the morning. I said I couldn't promise to join him. By now it was dark, but the evening had that afterglow of a warm day. We walked up the deserted road with our arms round each other's waist and our hands in the other's outside pocket. Our packets were bulging under the light stroking of the other's fingers. Finally it got too much for me as I took hold of Matt's waist, leant against a wall, plunged both hands into his trouser pockets, caressing his bollocks with my left and his cock with my right. He leant against me pushing the crevice of his buttocks against the stiffy in my slip. I untied the cord of his trousers and slipped my hand down the front and into the pouch of his cricketer's jockstrap. We both writhed with pleasure and finally he said he was coming. His whole body shook with the orgasm transferring his pleasure to mine. I unzipped my fly and let him finish me off and after catching our breath we continued up the hill to the chalet with only a telltale wet patch on his crotch giving away what we had been up to. Arriving back at half past ten we both had a shower, raided the fridge and relaxed with a drink together on the settee before retiring to bed. We were enjoying that glow gained from a day in the sun which both of us had visibly caught. Our heads hit the pillow and then oblivion.

The automatic body clock woke me about six-thirty again. Matt had gone for his run, so I took my time getting up, soaking in the bath. Just as I was drying myself the door opened and in he came looking refreshed from the exercise and kitted out in a primrose yellow Lycra running suit. Linford Christie, eat your heart out.

On spotting him my jaw dropped and my cock rose since I had not got as far as putting on any clothes. He was visibly flattered at my reaction, but I was the one who should be flattered and privileged to behold such a sight. After a smiling "Good Morning" he lay on the bed and fetchingly fondled his crotch, a bit of a tease since entrance to those running suits is severely restricted. I lay down beside him and rolled over on top to give him a deep throated kiss. Despite the perspiration his body smelt so delightfully adolescent and yet manly. We rolled over so that he was now on top of me returning the kiss. The Lycra was living up to the heavy demands being made on it. We remained side by side on the bed a few moments longer and decided it was time to get on with the rest of the day. I helped Matt out of his running suit and he went and showered while I got dressed. I went to talk to the chalet-owner about leaving us some dinner in the evening and carried on to breakfast. A couple of minutes later Matt appeared wearing pale green tennis shorts with a drawstring waistband and its inbuilt slip, a white tennis shirt with matching green trimmings, matching socks and tennis shoes. How does he make all his clothes look so marvellous?


At a quarter past eight we stepped onto the bus on our way to the station. The next stop was Interlaken. After a cursory look in the shops we made our way across the river to the minigolf course where even the master golfer can come a cropper. The air was cool, but the sun warm and it was so relaxing to be outside. In the end I beat Matt on the last stroke.

We then went off to the hire shop for a bicycle each and a pair of inline skates. Matt had his own pair at home. For me roller skating from childhood would easily be converted to this new skill. We rode out of Interlaken up the Lütschine valley towards Lauterbrunnen. At Zweilütschinen we stopped at the confluence of the black and white rivers. We took some photographs, one of Matt sitting on the bicycle saddle which enhanced his profile. We carried on up the Weisse Lütschine to Lauterbrunnen, locked up the cycles and went for some refreshment. After that we took the funicular up to the Grütschalp, our skates slung over our shoulders, our transport for this carfree zone. Once up at the top we transferred to the narrow gauge railway and afterwards skated through the sports facilities and shopping area in Mürren. Once more Matt's teasing nature came to the fore as obviously more athletic he skated on ahead to provide the competition, slowed down to let me get within a yard and then sped off again conscious of the effect his supple body had on me. From Mürren we could look up the side of the mountain to the revolving restaurant on the Schilthorn, made famous as one of the settings in the James Bond film Goldfinger. Taking the cable car had to be an excursion for another day. We had a light lunch in Mürren and then lay in the sun for half an hour, half dozing, sometimes idly chatting about the more obscure propositions of Hegelian philosophy.

As we skated towards train for Grütschalp again we stopped at the swimming pool. Lunch safely digested it was time to cool down. We carried our skates into the changing room and got undressed. We stepped out to the pool together. Matt enhanced the occasion by wearing his Hom Lycra swimming costume with its sunshine yellow front panel and royal blue back and sides. Teasingly a few pubic hairs peeped over the waistband and the bow of the drawstring invited being pulled. We had great fun chasing one another in the water, hurtling down the water chutes and finishing off in the jacuzzi. About four o'clock we took a quick rinse in the shower, rubbed down and changed.

Attaching our skates we glided off towards the funicular and regained our cycles at Lauterbrunnen station. Feeling healthily tired we were tempted to let the train take the strain back to Interlaken, but the hard part was behind us, so we cycled down the valley, freewheeling most of the way, and handed back our cycles and skates to the hire shop. Off to the station, Spiez and then the bus and we regained the chalet at about a quarter to seven after an exhausting, but very satisfying day.

Waiting for us was a cold, but sumptuous meal, more than we could eat. We did the food justice before showering and settling down for the evening. Matt put on a pair of white step-ins under which he was wearing a white cotton and Lycra thong. I fetched us both a small tot of malt whisky. Meanwhile he had switched on the television and chosen a video. So we sprawled onto the settee together, made ourselves comfortable and watched a young River Phoenix in Stand by Me. This story of adolescents searching one summer for the body of a missing man never failed to interest me and remind me what a waste of a life and talent the early death of River Phoenix was. The whisky coursed through our bodies giving a glow and a feeling of well-being. The important thing was to remember that just one drink was all that was needed and that two was overkill.

We sat there watching the film, occasionally kissing, occasionly stroking one another's balls. When the film was over we quickly tidied up and went to bed.

"Yours or mine?" We decided it would make a change to test Matt's bed. We left the bedside lamp on and pulled the duvet over ourselves and I took Matt in my right arm. Unbuttoning the step-ins I rubbed some oil into his nipple. As I continued to massage I leant over and explored his lips with my lips and then his tongue with my tongue. He groaned and fought back with his tongue forcing it into my mouth. My cock bucked and strained inside my slip, but it was not to get its wicked way yet. Although this was an early night half past six would come around too quickly. I slipped down his body, my tongue probing his nipple and my left hand exploring the contents of his thong through the step-ins. Matt found this irresistible and to prevent himself shouting out in pleasure he buried his mouth into the side of my neck. I could feel the vacuum caused by his lips, the pressure of his teeth against the skin. Finally he said "I'm ready." He drew back the duvet. I told him to stand up and I peeled back the step-ins from his shoulders and they fell to the floor. We embraced, kissing and fondling each other's buttocks while pressing our swollen packets together. In a moment of tenderness I slipped his thong down over his bottom and told him to sit on the edge of the bed. I knelt between his knees and lowered my head over his pubic hair. Holding his rampant cock I stuck out my tongue and licked the glans, probing under his foreskin with my tongue and licking and sucking the naturally produced lubricant from its tip. He ran his fingers gently through my hair and urged me to go on. I then took his boiling hot cock further into my mouth, gently rubbing its base with my hand. I heard his breathing get heavier. He took away his hands to support himself on the bed. I should love to have seen the delight on his face. He finally gasped "I'm coming." I braced myself for the rush of spunk. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to drink it. I wanted to lick every bit away. I wanted to suck his balls dry. I wanted to suck so hard that his balls would come up through his cock. And as the warm liquid gushed into my mouth he screamed from sheer pleasure and the orgasm was almost visible as it rippled through his body. My concentration had been so great that I did not notice that my own slip was soaked. Then came that moment of relaxation. We looked one another in the face. My lips still wet, we kissed. I took off my slip, wantonly threw it onto the floor and we got into bed together pulling the duvet over us. I remembered nothing more until the sun peeped through the curtains some time after six. He was sprawled over me. Both of us had rock hard cocks. As I shaved that morning I noticed the trophy on my neck. I felt proud of it and couldn't care less who saw it. I called out that I was going to shower and Matt joined me. We soaped each other up under the warm water, washed each other's hair and after the previous night we were both surprised that we had any spunk left when we came together under that bracing shower. We made our way towards breakfast, eager to meet the day,.


Today we would be dipping our toe into the water, as it were, for the weekend. The weather was due to continue gloriously warm under the influence of a high for at least until the middle of the following week, but today we were going up into the mountains to a height of just under 8000 feet where even on the sunniest summer day it could be chill. Matt had dressed in a royal blue polo shirt, a pair of yellow jeans and hiking boots. In his rucksack he had put a pullover and his heavy yellow anorak. Smiling and cheerful as ever he enthused me and made me feel that all the planning that had gone into our holiday was worthwhile. It was rewarding to hear him speaking German with the Swiss and persevering with the Schwyzerdütsch. At times we would talk in German between ourselves and it seemed just as natural as speaking English. As I was to find out, he is certainly blessed with the gift of tongues.

Arriving at Spiez station we caught the same train as two days before. You could not tire of the experience of riding in the Pendolino. We changed at Brig and joined the metre gauge train from Zermatt which would take us on the cog railway. We had been fortunate enough to reserve seats in the Glacier Express to Oberwald where we would try a new experience, for we had also managed to book seats in the Postbus which goes over the Furka Pass and on to Andermatt where you can rejoin the railway. The Glacier Express is billed as the slowest express in the world, but that timered not. Train and bus connected, the scenery of the Rhône valley was breath-taking and what would we be doing otherwise?

We got into conversation with a couple of English boys about Matt's age. They were strapping lads, good-looking, not tall, but muscular and obviously fit young sportsmen. Their parents and grandparents were farther down the carriage, or rather the family of one of them for the other was a best friend treated to the family's tour of Europe. Their names were Harry and Barny. In their hotel they shared a room on a different floor from the family's suite and from the conversation they obviously enjoyed each other's company. They showed intelligence and sparkle with a keen sense of humour and their company made the journey pass incredibly quickly. At Oberwald we said our farewells. Matt had taken some pictures of them and promised to send them copies in England.

We climbed into the bus and set off. Outside it was noticeably colder. We ascended the Rhône valley towards the Furka. The road left the railway that only a few years previously had been diverted into a tunnel which allowed it to operate the whole year round.

This journey had a timed stop of thirty minutes, so on arrival we put on our anoraks and walked towards the the glacier which formed the water source of the River Rhône. You walked through the glacier which shone blue in the sunlight showing the various minerals it carried, a different source from the one we would see over the weekend. The half hour over we resumed our journey to Andermatt which commanded the old road to the Gotthard, now superseded by the road tunnel. We found a café with a sunny terrace, ordered something to drink and hungrily devoured our packed lunches. Once more, having reached the point of no return, we had to decide our route home. Rather than take the train back through the tunnel to Brig we would go down to the Gotthard line at Göschenen, follow the Reuss down the valley, stop off at Altdorf for an hour to pay homage to William Tell, then on to Lucerne.

If we reached Lucerne at a reasonable time we could spend an hour or so there before taking the narrow gauge train over the Brünig to Interlaken and changing for Spiez. We were lucky in our Matting and finally got to Spiez about eight o'clock. Knowing that you could always get a good meal at station restaurants in Switzerland we went into the buffet and consumed our pig there. Somewhat recovered we returned to the chalet on foot to walk down our meal before bedtime. We arrived back just as it was getting dark some time before ten.

We had had a busy day and we needed to chill out before going to bed. We showered and changed and settled down on the sofa and with a CD playing in the background enjoyed a tot of malt whisky and discussed our plans for the weekend. Matt had put on his step-ins again and showing through the brilliant white I could see the crimson of his Sloggi Lycra slip. The business done we embraced and fondled and worked ourselves up for the return match from the previous evening. I quickly stiffened up in anticipation and had to take Matt's hand away from my packet for fear I would come off prematurely. We retired to the bedroom and stood in the embrace of a long and probing French kiss. Our groins pressed and gyrated against one another and when we felt ready I slipped Matt's step-ins over his shoulder and as they fell to the floor he slid down my shorts. I took my tee shirt off and sat down in an armchair. My cock stood proud and throbbing and I leant back for him to go down on me. He had learnt yesterday's lesson well and the tease in him heightened the thrill. He tentatively licked my glans savouring the bubble of lubricant that had formed. He told me not to warn him when I was coming, unless it was too soon. He peeled my foreskin back and continued addressing it, sometimes with the tip of his tongue, sometimes with all of it. I certainly got the rough edge of his tongue and I could not imagine greater pleasure until he judged the moment right and inserted my cock fully into his mouth and worked thoroughly away at it. My body was squirming as the thrill built up. I was consciously holding back for the optimum pleasure, but finally could hold back no more and my spunk rose and shot into his mouth. He parried the surprise and sucked, swallowed and sucked some more. The orgasm subsided, but the pleasure continued as he worked away with both tongue and fingers. My cock lost none of its rigidity, encouraged by Matt's innate skill as he tried to suck my balls dry. After what seemed an eternity he withdrew and I now sat back and enjoyed the splendour of seeing him in his crimson slip which was accommodating a rebelling cock, rebelling at the fact it had not yet had any of the action. After moments of admiration I removed the slip and we retired under the duvet. Aware of what we had to do the following day I finished Matt off with a deft, but thorough hand job and we fell asleep in one another's arms. The exertion must have caught up with us since we did not wake until eight. We showered together and then had our breakfast.


Today Matt was dressed in a pair of Chinos and a white T-shirt which had the slogan 'Coming second means first loser'. Our first job was to motor into town to pick up the camping equipment we had hired. Once that was safely stowed we toured the shops getting the few provisions we needed for Saturday through to Sunday lunch time. I had asked for a meal for Sunday evening and reminded the owners that we would not be in for breakfast that morning. About eleven we got back to the chalet, made our final preparations and were soon on the way to the Oberalp pass. The Susten was not open yet so we had to make the detour over the Brünig which added an hour to the journey. Once over the top of the Oberalp we pulled into a lay-by to admire the view and get our first sight of the young Rhine. Down in the valley the road joined the Vorderrhein. It was our aim to park up, carry our equipment as far as we could before dusk up towards Lake Toma, and camp there for the night. This being Switzerland we knew the car was safe and that in the morning we could leave our excess kit at our campsite and collect it on the way down. For me this was the centre piece of the holiday and I hoped Matt would be convinced too. By the interest he had taken in all we had seen and done so far I had little doubt. He always seemed ready to learn, even where he had had little interest previously.

We motored down to the Rheinquelle Inn, the first pub on the Rhine, had a light lunch and a drink, gained permission to park there and unloaded the car. Our gear was minimal: the two-man tent, a stove, cans and some cooking equipment, extra clothing, a sleeping bag, the Swiss equivalent of an Ordnance Survey map, a mobile telephone, first aid kit and one or two other items. Matt had put a blue shirt over his tee shirt and we both swapped our trainers for hiking boots and our trousers for shorts. Distances were deceiving as we made our way towards the river.

The hike is signposted as four and a half hours. A day and a half would be adequate. We reached the left bank. The river was still reasonably wide, pure and cold. No need to worry about drinking water even if the proverbial dead mountain goat were to be found in its waters. After two hours we had a break and brewed up. At six we got on our way again and at about seven thirty found the ideal place to camp. It was a small meadow almost surrounded by a rock face, but open to the river whose course was relatively flat here. Up to the entrance of this area there had been a few trees, larch and firs. We unburdened ourselves, set up the tent and collected some dead wood to make a fire. We did not need a fire, but it made a focal point and the air had started to cool rapidly as the sun threatened to disappear behind the rock. We fixed some food, then made ourselves comfortable. No wireless, no television, no traffic and apart from the rushing of the Rhine no noise - perfect solitude. After eating and clearing up, we just lay back chatting about ourselves, how we had come together, what we had done and what we were going to do over the coming week and how our lives would continue when we got back to England.

We knew we would eventually go our separate ways, but we felt it had also been pre-ordained that we should meet and come together and while our bodies would part our souls would be united forever. The ambiance of being alone, miles from civilisation, seven thousand feet up in the mountains, heightened the emotionally charged atmosphere. We looked at one another and knew that in the setting sun with a day of shared toil behind us this was the right moment to carry through what had previously been nascent thoughts. Our minds had so grown together that it needed no further discussion. A look sufficed. We put our arms round each other and kissed. Our loins throbbing we drew close to the fire. I took my Swiss navy knife, unfolded the blade and handed it to Matt. He dipped the blade into the water boiling in the billy-can. He withdrew the knife, took hold of my right hand and ran the blade across my palm at the base of the thumb. I flinched, but said nothing, only taking the knife in turn and drawing it in a similar manner across Matt's right palm. The blood flowed instantly from both cuts. Sitting cross-legged facing one another we looked each other in the eye and stretched out our right hands. We interlocked our thumbs and put our first two fingers round the other's wrist. We held the grip for a good minute, absorbing the vision of joy in the other's face while our blood mingled. We rose to our feet and sealed our solemn act with a fraternal kiss. Our blood had mixed and in no way could it now be separated and this symbolised the state of our souls. Wherever our bodies might be in the world, our souls were as one. We were now blood brothers betrothed in an unbreakable loyalty. We lay back side by side now in each other's arms savouring the solemnity and the bliss of this private and simple ceremony, two and yet one, eternally faithful.

Just before the final piece of twilight was to disappear towards ten o'clock Matt took the mobile telephone and called home. He was obviously thrilled to tell his parents and sister that we were on top of the world and how much he was enjoying himself. Once it was dark there was little to do and as we would be up at dawn we decided to get some sleep. We changed into tracksuits and carefully stowed our kit so it would not get wet and we climbed into our sleeping bag. The ground was soft…-ish, but we coped. We had an affectionate cuddle before falling asleep.


It was growing light when we were woken by a snuffling and mumbling sound. We carefully looked out. There was enough sunlight for us to see a creature sniffing round the edge of the tent. I immediately recognised it as a marmot. We were amazed. We couldn't have been more fortunate than to catch a glimpse of one of these shy Alpine rodents. Once we were on the move it scuttled off across the field.

We climbed back into the sleeping bag and clung together to keep warm. I straightaway got a stiffy. Matt instinctively slipped his hand inside my tracksuit bottoms and gently rubbed my packet. When it became too much I pulled down my bottoms and my slip and let his hand work away at it. I kept a tissue handy, in Matte to stop my spunk splashing everywhere for I was mindful of the restricted hygienic conditions here in the mountains. I pulled my tracksuit back on, kissed him in appreciation and slept through to half past four. We lay there for a few moments in the midway state between sleeping and waking. My hands wandered and I was soon returning the compliment paid in the middle of the night. We lay there a bit longer and finally pulled ourselves out of our sleeping bag. The fire had kept in, just, so we rekindled it and heated up some water for a brew. On this side of the valley the sun was already shining and quickly warming up the air. While the water was heating up, it was time to do our ablutions which meant one thing and one thing only, a dip in the river. We looked at one another and knew what the other was thinking.

Matt said "Right, we'll go for it," and we pulled off our tracksuits and slips and went for it, running hell for leather into the river. It was as cold as expected, but we did the necessary as quickly as possible and ran back to the tent for our towels. I looked at Matt - so he was human, after all. The cold water had got to his packet, as it had got to mine. We rubbed each other down, then got dressed, this time long trousers, a pullover and an anorak.

Breakfast was minimal, but adequate. We pulled down the tent, tidied up the campsite and stacked our gear against the rock face. We only took what we needed and that fitted into one rucksack. We tossed up to see who would take first turn with it and I lost. The way became barer, but we worked our way on steadily, walking through a gorge, and suddenly it was there — Lake Toma, Tomasee, Lai da Tuma, 2345 m, 7693 ft above sea level, the nearest we would get to the source of the Rhine, for the Rein Anteriur was fed by twelve smaller streams, nicknamed the Twelve Apostles, and it would not be wise for just two of us with our equipment to pursue any of those. We felt elated at all we had achieved. We sat just looking at the mountains. We took pictures of the lake, the river, of ourselves and finally made up our minds that we had to leave all this behind and make our descent. The return trek was an anti-climax. We picked up our camping equipment on the way and arrived back at the Rheinquelle about two. A snack and a drink and we were in the car on our return to the chalet in Spiez.

We decided to get the dirty work out of the way quickly. We cleaned the camping equipment and made it fit Swiss style for return. We would make sure we got that back as soon as possible after eight tomorrow so as not to waste the day. We then went and cleaned ourselves up. I languished in the bath while Matt showered. I dreamily watched his svelte figure through the frosted glass of the shower and considered our good fortune - his to have such an attractive physique coupled with his innate intelligence and his outgoing and friendly nature, mine to have the privilege first of knowing him and secondly being able to spend this time alone with him, and yet keep him entertained. I must have dozed off as I don't remember seeing him leave the shower and when I finally got out of the bath he was curled up fast asleep on the bed. I dried myself, put on my towelling shorts and likewise fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The next thing I heard was the chalet owner calling us to supper. I shook Matt and we put on clean tracksuits and settled down out on the terrace to a splendid three course meal of soup, casserole and fruit. We both felt comparatively refreshed, but even so we would have a quiet evening in. There was a bottle of wine on the table and what we did not drink during the meal we took into the lounge and finished while watching television. We watched a video of Angus Stewart's Sandel. It certainly underlined the quality of personal loyalty and reflected very much our own relationship.

"'Time for bed,' said Zebedee" I heard from Matt and I appreciated the magic if not the roundabout.

We had discussed what we were going to do in bed after the lessons learnt from the previous occasions. We were just wearing our Spartacus shorts, those towelling ones with the slits down the sides and fastened by velcro. We were in no hurry to go to sleep so we lay together on the duvet exploring each other's body with our fingers and tongues, massaging and talking, laughing or rather giggling at the silly things we said, but you can only do so much until, as Jim Davidson said, you get 'hooked on'. We were both ready. We ripped open the velcro and our shorts fell away. I got up and lay down again with my head at the foot of the bed. Luckily it was a long bed and we just fitted on, otherwise it would have been the floor. I took hold of Matt's stiffy and eased back his foreskin. He did the same to me in concert. Then we ventured into the realms of soixante-neuf.

It was odd to work independently and yet together and as we had been taught never to speak with our mouths full conversation was impossible. Rationality defeats this, but one would expect the taste of a cock to be off-putting. It wasn't. There was the salty taste of the glans, then the smooth flavour of the love-juice, anticipating that of the spunk itself. While I beavered away at my end I could feel the double pleasure as Matt applied his newly acquired expertise to my cock. I could only hope that he was experiencing something similar, but I wouldn't know until after the event. It is strange how people who live closely together can co-ordinate their actions. We had not been together for a week yet, but as I felt I could no longer hold back the build-up of the orgasmic pressure in my cock I felt Matt begin to shudder and suddenly my mouth was full of his spunk. At the same time I shot my load and the ripples went through my whole frame. We both withdrew involuntarily, but the pleasure seething through our bodies meant that we could not remain coupled. I had to swallow to draw breath, but Matt shot a second load which landed on my face. I quickly wiped it with my finger before it went cold, for again I found the taste of semen irresistible. I looked at Matt. He was smiling that smile you use to suppress certain types of pain for so strong was his orgasm that it was touching the pain barrier, but the smile also showed his pleasure. Our cocks quickly subsided. I turned round on the bed, we crept under the duvet and went to sleep. We woke just before seven, showered together and went to breakfast in our dressing-gowns.


After breakfast we got dressed. Matt looked resplendent in a pair of cut off Levi's and a pale blue singlet, not something I would normally countenance, but he had this uncanny ability of proving me wrong on so many preconceptions. He had caught the sun, as I had, and so his long brown legs ending in sandals were extremely attractive. The Levi's hugged his buttocks, the waist was under no strain and even though on this occasion he had put on boxer shorts the fit of the jeans led my eyes directly to the zip-up fly. I had a half hard-on just looking at him and he knew it. He provocatively rubbed his hand between my legs, then, tantalizing as he was, said "Let's get that tent back before it’s lunchtime." We drove off into Spiez, returned the equipment, then parked the car under the station. We were going to relax today after the efforts of the weekend and although we were both mentally alert and on top form as regards mood, our limbs were certainly sensing the hard work they had been put to. The ICE to Berne and onto the express heading south-west for our first venture into la Suisse romande.

I pointed out the Röstigraben as just past Düdingen the train crossed the river from Kanton Freiburg to Canton Fribourg. We lay back in the comfy seats of our air-conditioned first class compartment and watched the scenery flash past on this flagship express of the Swiss Federal Railways which sped hourly between the north-east corner and Geneva airport at the south-west tip of the Confederation. We arrived in Geneva about half past eleven. First we walked to the shops and got ourselves a hot chocolate in a store. I pointed out the horse butcher. Then onto the bus to see the statues of the great Reformers whose introduction of Protestantism had become a hallmark of this city state which had provided sanctuary from the persecution in France. Another bus to the opposite end of the city to visit the Botanical Garden. I was interested in its collection of alpine plants and wanted to take some photographs for my researches. We found the silver geranium (geranium argenteum), the only cultivated source I knew. We saw gentians, just as we had seen them growing by the upper reaches of the Rhine and close inspection showed various kinds of lizard basking in the warm summer sun. time was moving on, so we bussed back to the railway station, bought some snacks and took ourselves down to the lake where a very different River Rhône from the one we had seen some days earlier left on its journey to France and the Mediterranean.

We took our seats on the top deck of a paddle steamer and as it left gained a superb view not only of the huge fountain that rose from the lake, but also in the distance of Mont Blanc to the south. We languidly fed as the steamer ploughed its way northwards. The first stop was at the French frontier on the southern shore at a place called Hermance.

There the local lads were cooling off from the heat of the day waving to the passengers. But that was only the beginning of the cabaret. Led by one lad I particularly remember for the way he filled his yellow swimming costume they swam out to the boat and dived under the housing for the paddles. For the moment that was the last we saw of them and thought that they had been diving under the keel. Too idle to go over to the other side of the boat we sat there until it started its way across the lake. Then a hundred yards out the boys re-appeared after hitching a lift, gave cheery waves once more and swam back to shore. We decided to disembark at Nyon where the town was filled with an obviously popular street market. This took our attention until we felt the urgent need for an icecream. Then came the climb up the hill to the station. Oddly it was quicker to catch the next train back to Geneva and transfer to our train there rather than wait to travel into Lausanne and catch it. We had the choice of travelling either to Berne or Brig to go on to Spiez. Luxury won the day and we took the Berne train. In Berne station we just had to cross the platform and wait five minutes before we were speeding on our way. In Spiez we picked up the car, sped back to the chalet and showered and changed for dinner.

We had decided to sample the Hotel Eden, so it was a collar and tie evening. Matt wore his light grey slacks - the creases were razor sharp - a light mauve shirt and silk tie and once more his traditional linen jacket. As it was a lazy day we went off in the car again. At the hotel we were shown to a table situated by the huge window. We had promised ourselves a fondue night, but not yet. We selected from the menu. The view was down the valley towards the lake. In the distance some clouds had gathered, not too threatening. On the contrary, they cleared and framed in the U-shape form of the mountains the setting sun appeared shining red on the Jungfrau. The hotel's guests were largely composed of retired English, so we kept our heads down. After a relaxed meal it was back to the chalet, just pleasant not to be on the move for a while. We cracked a bottle of wine after changing and settled down to watch Michael Campbell’s Lord Dismiss Us on video, absorbing, but let down by its pessimistic ending. It was now time for some sleep and we went off to bed.

We got undressed and were just about to climb under the duvet when Matt said "I’ve got something I'd like to try." At this he produced from the bedside table a packet of fruit flavoured condoms. The logic intrigued me. A condom is designed for one part of the body and fruit flavouring for another. Put those two together and there can only be one conclusion. "What's your favourite flavour?"

"Lime," I said.

"I'll take strawberry," he said and handed me the lime one. No, he was not being awkward. The implication was clear: if I wanted to taste the lime, I gave him an erection and put the johnny on him and vice versa. For ease of working and control I put my slip back on and then settled down with Matt on the bed. I was not going to hurry so we started with a slow snog and not until I was ready did I touch his bollocks and his cock. His cock was already rampant and I got him to lie on his back while I straddled his legs and knelt over him. I carefully tore open the cellophane, squeezed the green johnny out and it gave me the greatest pleasure to roll it over his moist, throbbing cock. That in itself made him groan with delight. I got Matt to sit up and then I went down on him, sucking at the lime flavour and manipulating until his body juddered and I knew my tongue had completed its artful work. Matt recovered quickly, knotted the lime green johnny, put on the pink thong he had been wearing earlier and went to work on me and the strawberry flavour. It was different, but that skin of rubber prevented the thrill of a bareback seeing-to. When I could control myself no more, I came, but I felt I could have done better. We pulled the duvet over ourselves, hugged one another, looked each other in the face and shaking our heads spontaneously said "No". The flavours had lasted and been fine, perhaps a bit rubbery, but the lack of sensitivity made us prefer the real thing where we could seek out the nooks and crannies and have that added pleasure of the other shooting straight into our mouths. And so it was we fell asleep in a warm embrace and woke at the normal time the following morning. Matt slipped on his yellow Lycra running suit and disappeared for a run. I had a bath and slowly got ready, then went out into the cool of the morning with my camera to await his return. As he sped in, the sun just caught him right for the shadows and the contrast and I managed to snap him on the move with his legs at full stretch. He sat for a couple of stills, one sitting on a farm gate and the other posing as Mr Universe and then went in to get showered and changed for breakfast.


Tim had appeared in a light green polo shirt, dark green knee-length shorts cut narrow but not tight in the leg and sandals. Over the past week the sun really had got to work giving his skin a glowing deep tan and creating in him a picture of health. The added sparkle in his eyes, ruddy cheeks and ready smile approached perfection of form. How marvellous it would be to lock in his present appearance for ever, but as a flower reaches its optimum form in blossom and fades, then so would he too in time lose his natural glamour. But back to the positive. This was a time to be enjoyed, much less to be spoilt by maudlin thoughts of ephemerality.

The River Rhine was again going to be the main feature of today’s itinerary. It was time to head for the station, Berne, Zurich and then Schaffhausen. At Schaffhausen we transferred to a local trolleybus making for Neuhausen. The route led down to and along the Rhine valley. We got off a little upstream and walked down to the bank. The river had passed through Lake Constance. It was wider than when we last saw it and, although there was no white water, fast flowing. We walked through the park in the direction of flow. We could see the flow speed up as we headed westward and suddenly we were upon it. The river disappeared over the edge and we could hear a thunderous roar. We had to make a slight detour as a hydroelectric station had been built on the bank. Over a foot bridge and down some steps and we could see the power of the water pouring down some sixty feet.

We were already gaining the benefit of the spray as it cooled us down on this hot day. We walked out along the platform to gain a better and wetter view. The water still kept coming and now we had our white water. We watched the motor boats battling their way against the current to the island and then decided to go for it ourselves. We walked over the bridge to the boat station. We knew we were in for a soaking. It seemed touch and go whether we would ever get there, but if there had been any real danger the Swiss would never have allowed it. We got out of the boat and soaked climbed up the narrow stairway to the top of the rock. It was exhilarating to look down on the Rhine one way and up at the Rhine the other. We made our way back to the landing stage and took the boat back to the shore. We crossed to the Schaffhausen side again and went into the café for a coffee, then back by trolleybus to the centre of town. We bought some things at the station to eat on the train and then caught the 'regional' train to Kreuzlingen.

Kreuzlingen is on Lake Constance, the Bodensee, and Lake Constance is to the River Rhine what Lake Geneva is to the River Rhône. I explained to Matt that although Switzerland's neutrality had prohibited it, aircraft parts had in fact been produced there during the war and sent to Germany. We left the train and from outside the station walked a few yards down the road to find that we had to show our passports for we had arrived at the German frontier and the town of Konstanz. Konstanz forms a German enclave on the Swiss side of the lake. It was strange to hear how within two hundred yards the pronunciation and accent of the spoken language had changed from Swiss to standard German. The town itself is a walled city that spans the Rhine where it leaves the lake. We had a tour and then went to Konstanz station and as it was not yet mid-afternoon took a train to St Gallen where we could see in the monastery museum the oldest piece of written German known to be in existence.

After St Gallen it was the premier express to Zurich and Berne, then back to Spiez. We ate in town before making our way contented and healthily weary back to the chalet.

We changed and settled down with a glass of malt whisky in front of the television. There was a re-run of Queer as Folks on Sky. Matt had put on a large loose white tee shirt which draped over a pair of white adidas running shorts. They were 'short shorts' made of nylon with the three adidas stripes in blue. Ten minutes into the programme I discovered that was all he had put on. Not only that, but the sewn-in slip had been cut out, and thus the extra long tee shirt. As we had had such a long day, we decided on an early night. That meant eleven rather than twelve o’clock.

We took turns to shower and naked I crept under the duvet and fell asleep waiting for Matt to attend to his hair. In a while I was asleep.

"What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly awake. Our hair was still wet and our crotches damp in the dark in the bed and something was trying to wriggle itself up between my cheeks — Matt's cock.

"Ssh," he whispered. "How does it feel?"

"It feels good."

"Wait a minute." He hopped out of bed and got a tube of this greasy stuff called KY out of the bedside table. "I'm not going to do anything you won't like. I promise." I was on my back. He lifted my legs and spread some goo on his courting finger and wormed it in very slowly to the first knuckle. "Can you feel that?"

"Yes, of course."

"Relax that muscle.

"I can’t."

"Just relax it. You're not used to relaxing it, but you can if you try." I tried to, but it kept tightening. His finger was lapping around in there. I groaned, I think. For a while I didn't tighten, but then I did, around his finger.

"Yeeow! Relax it, man." Something was starting to feel good. Matt looked at me, grinning. "That's it, that's it." He was massaging something that felt good. "It's very sensitive," he said. "Can you feel it?" I exhaled through my mouth. "It's the prostate." he said. "I can feel it throb against my finger." I was beginning to loosen up for longer periods of time. I was as hard as a rock and so was he. He said, "I could make you come just by massaging that."

"Go ahead," I said.

"You want me to roger you?"

"Yes, sure."

"I'll stop whenever you want me to."


"You're sure?"

"Sure I'm sure." With his finger still up there he started to grease up his cock. "Let me do that," I said. He handed me the tube and I slicked him up working it into the rim under his foreskin. His cock bucked and kicked in my hand and he went "Oooh" with his eyes closed. He was rubbing my prostate and every time he did my cock stood up, then splat against my stomach. He pulled his finger out and pressed in against my arse. With his two hands like greasy vices he held my ankles back over my head. My knees were touching my shoulders. He pushed in and I tightened. My cock sprang up. "Ohhh — ow!" I yelled, gritting my teeth. He held the head there.

"Relax, relax. relax," he said. "Relax." I relaxed.

"Push it in," I said. But he held it like that, pulsing, just the head inside me and stuck his tongue down my throat and I sucked on it as he very very slowly slid his cock in. I found that I could keep loose by concentrating, then after a while I didn't even have to think about it. He raised himself slowly, a long line of spittle connecting his lower lip to my tongue.

"Look," he said. "Feel it with your hand." I felt the underbase of his cock, throbbing like mad. I felt his bollocks which were right up against my arse. He knelt there, us looking into each other, then he flexed it inside me, once.

"Wheew," I said closing my eyes, grinning. He chuckled, put some more KY gel on his hand and slowly pulled out and as he pushed his cock back, mine leapt straight up. He grabbed it with his hand. I was just groaning. I couldn't believe it. It was better than anything. And another thing was the way it looked — Matt's body bucking and rippling, humping. I reached up and held on to his lats. He held my feet together and started sucking on my toes! I started slapping his buttocks as he rammed in and I lifted my bum off the bed ramming into him, meeting him. I tried not to yell, but I was going to explode. He put his hand over my mouth and I sucked on his hypothenar muscle, that fleshy side part, and made wheezing or squeaking noises as I shot all over my face and chest. "Pull it out! Pull it out!" I pushed at the top of his thighs and he pulled out and his cock bounced at my face and then it was still and then it pumped and without touching it he shot straight out all over my face and I stuck my tongue out and caught a big glob. He was all wobbly and we were both grinning like drunken cowboys when they get socked in the jaw and they lie there with their eyes half open, grinning with birds tweeting round their heads. He was soaked and so was I and he fell down on top of me with a splap and a squish and we rolled around, licking each other and sucking off every part of our bodies till we fell asleep in some crazy position. In the morning my arse was really sore — all day in fact — but otherwise I felt great. We finally got up and had a shower together and went off to breakfast. [pace John Fox]


After eating we went back to our rooms. This morning Matt had put on a sunshine yellow tee shirt tucked into his shorts. It was so tight that you could clearly see the outline of his nipples and almost see his sixpack rippling under it. They were the same shorts as he had worn last night. Whatever he had on underneath it did the job, but left little to the imagination. I asked him what he was wearing.

"If you're that interested, you'd better find out for yourself," he said with that knowing twinkle in his eye. A nod being as good as wink to a blind man I told him to put his arms in the air. Not wanting to crease it I lifted off his tee shirt. I put my arms round Matt, pulled him towards me in a hug and buried my tongue down his throat. As our packets started bulging and rubbing together I slipped my hand down the back of his shorts to discover his bare buttocks and as I withdrew my tongue I stretched the elastic waist of the shorts and let them drop to the floor. I had the answer to my question. He had on a loose navy-blue thong which fully enclosed his cock and his bollocks, but in no way restricted their movement.

But he wasn't going to let me get away with that. He dropped the thong, picked it up with his big toe and with a deft movement of his foot slung it across the room, making it land on a peg behind the door.

"I bet you can't do that again," I said.

"Not this side of an orgasm," he giggled. His cock had stiffened to its full length and I started working away at it with my tongue. He told me he was straining to hold back as long as possible and I could feel the sudden loss of tension in his buttocks as he released his load into the back of my throat. Our passion quickly subsided. Matt got dressed. As he was doing so I sat in the chair admiring those bronzed, hairless legs that went from the tip of his sandals right up to his armpits.

We were heading north again today, this time Basle, or is it Bâle or Basel in English these days? Anyway, it's a German-speaking city so we'll stick to Basel until we know better. This time we rode the ICE all the way. For many Basel is the gateway to Switzerland, standing as it does across the Rhine as it turns northwards towards the North Sea (and pollution) at the Dreiländereck where the Swiss, German and French frontiers meet, and this was our first goal. It is a purely theoretical point, placed as it is in the middle of the river and accessible either only by water or by land from Swiss territory. We caught the 14 tram out to its northern terminus and then had a fifteen minute walk through the docks and out onto an esplanade complete with café which indeed did end in the middle of the river and was marked by a vertical rocketship-like obelisk which had the flags of each country painted on the appropriate side. After a photo call we visited the café for some light refreshment before making our way back into town. We did a little shopping and decided we would visit the zoo, one of Europe's famous ones ranking alongside London and Berlin. We took lunch in the cafeteria and after a further sighting of the inmates made our way back to the station. To avoid the possibility of ambush we took the westward route back, breaking the journey in Delémont, the chief town of Canton Jura, for an ice cream. Matt wound me up by choosing a long thin round ice lolly with a white chocolate coating and eating in the most provocative way. My loins appreciated the spectacle, but that was the end of it for we had a prior agreement against any public display of affection. It just proved to me, though, that he was enjoying our holiday together and relishing the experiences gained.

Back to the train, Biel, Berne and Spiez, back quite early for us, so we made up our minds to catch the seven o'clock boat on Lake Thun to Interlaken and dine there. We parked the car near Spiez station and walked down to the Lake. Matt had changed into 501s and put a dull-orange crew-neck pullover over his tee shirt which was now completely hidden. Teasingly the pullover reached halfway down the button-fly of his jeans so all according to how he moved or sat you could admire his well-proportioned packet, or not. The voyage was so relaxing in the evening sun. The breeze coming off the water made us feel comfortable as we watched the water-skiers and wind-surfers in their wet-suits and yachtsmen. We talked about our experiences of the last few days and what we would do for the few that remained. We disembarked, checked the times of the trains and walked into Interlaken, or rather up the road to Unterseen which was off the track beaten by the early season Japanese and Americans, but which had its choice of quality restaurants. As we were so relaxed we treated ourselves to a bottle of wine over the meal. On impulse we decided that this was it, this was our fondue night and so we sat there dipping pieces of bread into this cheese speciality of Switzerland. The time flashed past when suddenly Matt looked at his watch and said that we'd better go if we wanted to catch that last train. It was dark, but the sky still had a bright blue glow over the mountains. We got into Spiez, picked up the car and arrived back at the chalet.

We had already said that it would be the return match from the previous evening. We showered separately to avoid temptation and did not bother to get dressed, but went straight to bed. I threw the duvet on the floor and Matt lay down on his back. The blood was already racing round my body in anticipation. Matt opened his legs and I went down on him in an attempt to lick his tonsils. I lifted my body slightly so that our cocks could adjust themselves and we kissed until we could stand it no more. I took the tube of KY gel and massaged it into Matt's crevice. Likewise he covered my cock with it and resumed the position. He lay there on his back, knees bent and legs splayed. I gently lowered my body on top of him, supporting myself on my elbows. As I did he rested his heels on my shoulders which raised his buttocks and presented his crevice at the correct angle. Ever gentle and mindful of his enjoyment I lowered myself until the tip of my cock touch his crevice and I slowly pushed in. There was a surge in my body as I went up as far as possible. I could see the delight on his face, but still asked if he was okay. He told me to pump slowly. The KY gel was doing its job and involuntarily I gradually sped up. I could feel I was massaging his prostate and his own cock was as hard as iron. And so it went, the climax building up in me until I could stop it no more. My cock burst and I could feel my spunk coursing into him, but at the same time he came and his jism hit against our chests. We lay there kissing, his hands massaging my buttocks and my hands under his. The bliss only ended when the inevitable happened and I slackened off and naturally came out of him. A few moments more of French kissing and I made to stand up, but we were stuck together. His spunk had dried with body heat on our chests and after there had been this check there came the sound of velcro being parted as we separated. I picked up the duvet and pulled it over us as I lay down beside him. A final good night kiss and then it was suddenly six thirty in the morning with the sun shining through the curtains. We had decided on another activity day and so we were very much in our own time. We dozed on and off for an hour and then made the supreme effort to go to breakfast which we did in our dressing gowns.


After breakfast we showered and got ready. Today Matt had selected a light grey pair of tights and a matching singlet. His thong patterned jockstrap lifted his packet and boldly placed it in the centre. Over this he wore a silver grey tracksuit top which hugged his figure. He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and we departed for Interlaken for a physically active day. We spent the first half of the morning ice-skating. For this he had shed his tracksuit top. I was fascinated to watch him speed first forwards, then pirouette and carry on backwards, the epitome of youthful grace. How strange it is that an adolescent can combine clumsiness in his day to day movements and yet when practising a skill display the graceful movements of a prima donna ballerina. I tried to keep up with him, but possessed neither the skill nor the speed. We then caught the bus to a village on the side of Lake Brienz as there was some beginners' wind surfing.

We changed into hired wetsuits, had a briefing and were taken onto the lake for a lesson. Once we had learnt to keep the sail out of the water we found we could move at an exhilarating pace.

Our course took us till mid-afternoon, so after some sandwiches we moved on to the next event, ten-pin bowling. We finished off with a swim in the leisure complex and once again I had the pleasure of seeing Matt in his Hom Lycra costume. By this time we were beginning to feel the effects of the day and so we headed for the station and back to Spiez.

Once back at the chalet we collapsed onto the bed and chatted and dozed until half past six. In both of us our limbs had started to stiffen up, so I got Matt to take off his clothes and lie face down on the bed. I took a bottle of baby oil and started massaging it into his body starting at the shoulders and finishing at the legs. He massaged me in turn and then we went into the shower to clean ourselves up. It was fun trying to grasp each other's slippery body, but finally we got down to the serious business of washing off the oil. We soaped each other working up a full lather. I worked particularly hard with the soap on Matt's buttocks and crevice and I know its the oldest trick in the book, but in my excited state I let the soap squidge out of my hand and as Matt bent down to pick it up I swiftly slipped my cock inbetween his cheeks. He gasped with surprise and then rammed his body against mine to make sure he was getting full value. I could then slip my hand round to the front, grasp his stiffened cock and slowly start to toss him off. The way his body bucked complemented my thrust with such energy that I felt my spunk rise and with perfect Matting we came together with a shout of "Yeeeh…" in complete ecstasy. Having given and gained satisfaction I withdrew and he turned round letting the warm water trickle over us washing all the débris away.

"I should have known better," Matt said, "but even if I'd sussed it, I wouldn't have missed that for the world." Out of the shower we rubbed each other dry and put on slacks and a polo shirt. After such an energetic day we thought we deserved the luxury of the car. We went into Thun to see what was going on and watched the street entertainers before picking a restaurant for the evening meal. It had gone eleven by the time we regained the chalet. To unwind before retiring we watched a Simpsons video, then hit the hay.


The sun woke us at our normal time. My hand instinctively went across to feel for Matt's groin and met his travelling in the opposite direction.

"Snap" he said and we chuckled away. We were both rock hard so I got up, tossed the duvet on the floor and lay with my head at the foot of the bed. Lying there like the British Rail logo it made it easy to grasp the other's cock. It was amazing the trust, coordination and telepathy we had developed over the past few days in seeing to one another's desires. We started our manipulations, but before we got too far I got Matt to wait while I fetched the baby oil. With a spot on my finger I smeared his glans making sure that he was well lubricated under the foreskin. I did the same to myself then poured a little oil into the palm of my hand. I shook Matt's hand transferring some of the oil to his palm.

"Try that," I said and got back into position. Instead of pumping each other's foreskin up and down we simply rolled it back and massaged the glans with our oily palms. The effect was outstanding. We writhed with the sheer pleasure, threatening at times to slip out of the other's grasp. When we felt we were about to come we warned the other to slow down until Matt could hold back no more.

"Let's go for it," he shouted We went for it. My buttocks leapt up from the bed in orgasmic joy while he shot his load, some landing on his hair and some on my toes. We exhaled in relief and lay back our bodies as limp as our cocks for five, ten minutes, who knows? Then up into the shower and on with the rest of the day.

I always enjoyed breakfast. In the summer it was the best time of the day, enhanced especially as it was now by a feeling of sexual fulfilment. Fresh from a night's sleep and a shower it was a relaxing moment added to by my sitting opposite Matt dressed in a well fitting olive green tee shirt and khaki shorts, again narrow to the knee and as if tailored for his form and his form alone.

Today was destined to be educational. We changed trains at Thun onto the Mittelland railway along the Emmental and eventually to Lucerne. Lucerne has this superb situation at the head of the Vierwaldstättersee which we call the Lake of Lucerne. As you come out of the station you immediately see in front of you the River Reuss and the wooden covered bridge across it, recently destroyed by fire, yet quickly restored even with the paintings under the roof. Rather than go into town our first destination was the Transport Museum for which needed a number 6 or 8 trolley bus. No intelligent being can fail to find interest here, the national museum in a country which has the best public transport system in the world. The highlight for us was to sit in a classroom set out as a locomotive cab and to be taught with the aid of graphics how to drive a train up the Reuss valley and through the Gotthard tunnel.

Returning to town we bought some snacks for lunch which we shared with the sparrows on the lakeside. We idled our time until the departure of the paddle steamer. Not only was this a relaxing way to watch the beautiful scenery go by, but it was also a Swiss history lesson with the fight for independence from Austria under William Tell which led to the confederation of the original cantons on the Rütliwiese in 1291. The boat left us for an hour to climb up the steep bank onto this field enshrined in the history of Switzerland, only comfortably accessible from the lake. After an hour the steamer arrived to take us off again. We left it at Brunnen, caught the train to Zurich and from there to Berne and Spiez, a longer route, but shorter in time.

That we were coming to the end of our holiday dawned on us and yet we had scarcely scratched the surface of such a small country and we made up our minds there and then that this must not be a our last visit. Back in Spiez by seven we decided on a relaxing evening at home. We ate in town and caught the bus up to the chalet. Matt changed into a long tee shirt and his Spartacus shorts. Thinking that such a good a idea, I did the same, sat on the sofa with a bottle of wine and played a CD quietly in the background.

We were in talkative mood and despite days of each other's undivided attention there was still so much we hadn't spoken about. Not only his body, but Matt's whole essence and character interested me. He obviously knew how handsome and physically well-endowed he was. However, there was a built-in modesty, an earnest side to his fun-loving nature which yearned always to do the best, not just for himself, but for other people. He possessed that rare ability of combining a willingness to please, yet retaining his own integrity and remaining his own man. We talked about our own relationship. It had gelled at first sight and grown as he developed and matured. I could neither deny nor hide that I was interested in his sexual development. He talked freely and at length about how conscious he was of sexual delights. As early as twelve he had noticed he was far in advance of many of his contemporaries, though not all. The more physically mature ones had formed close relationships on the rugby and cricket field and in the showers. They swapped notes and helped each other along. Matt found that as he was approaching his thirteenth birthday how frequently his cock would stiffen. He could not wear boxer shorts for fear in those days of embarrassment. Added to that he enjoyed stroking his groin and when one of the other boys had done it to him it enhanced his enjoyment tenfold. During the long summer holiday his pubic hair had grown more significant, his voice had broken, his packet grew larger. He would lie alone in bed easing his foreskin back and forth until he suddenly found after a slight short, sharp pain it would go back all the way. He realised now that what the other boys had told him would work and determined pulling and pushing finally brought him his first orgasm. He returned to school more confident in himself, but also in the realisation that what had interested him about himself, interested others and gained him many admirers. He had known from the start that I was one such and though it had never occurred to me to call him a lush, he had done all in his power to tart and attract my attention. I was flattered and although I answered the message we were both discreet.

Our friendship and trust grew until finally this summer we were in a position to go away with one another and were enjoying the fruits of our relationship, now grown into a close friendship. It was a mutual relationship, equal give and take, a symbiosis of his outstanding physique and my experience.

Suddenly we were quiet. We looked at each other, smiled and fell into a hug. We went into the bedroom, took off our tee shirts and climbed under the duvet. Matt was soon on top of me. I undid the velcro and his shorts fell away. He was working away at one of my nipples with his tongue while I could feel his cock slowly sliding up and down between my groin and my bollocks. I massaged his buttocks and then when I felt he was ready stretched my arm out to the bedside table drawer and pulled out a dildo which as he raised his body to get a better thrust I gently inserted between his cheeks. The surprise and the joy made him come. I felt the hot liquid shoot out over my stomach and get soaked up by the towelling of my shorts. We rolled over and started the process again. I lost my shorts and gained a butt plug much sooner. I got Matt to raise his lower body so I could take out the dildo, only to replace it with the real thing. I remember coming, but after that my gentlemanly behaviour took over as I rolled onto my side and promptly fell asleep.


The weather continued set fair. Today we would feel on top of the world. After breakfast we wandered down the road to the station, Matt sporting a pair of white 501s, a white Levi shirt and hiking boots. Other clothing was in his rucksack for we would feel the cold later on. Our immediate destination was Wilderswil. The first part of the morning we intended to travel up to Schynige Platte and visit the alpine garden while the sun was gaining some height. During the ascent on the cog railway we were 'entertained' to a running commentary by an Englishwoman on the plants that we passed. While her knowledge of the plants themselves was sound, her background knowledge was a little shaky until I could take no more and let out that we spoke English and I put in my two pennyworth. The top station was the starting point of many fine mountain walks, but alas they would have to be kept for another year. The garden was a concentrated tribute to the floral richness of the Alps, encouraged by their specialised situations, distance from civilisation and the multitude of wild bees that serviced them. I took photographs of the various kinds of gentian.

After the descent to Wilderswil it was off to Lauterbrunnen for another cog railway up to Kleine Scheidegg. To our good fortune the sky was crystal clear for finally mounting the Jungfrau by train. The ascent was slow but sure and as we approached the long tunnel through the mountain to Europe's highest railway station (3454m 11332ft) we were pleased of the extra clothing we had brought. With its summit at 11400 ft the Jungfrau is covered by perpetual snow and, as we quickly found out, the altitude was enough to make breathing and consequently movement more difficult for us unacclimatised lowlanders But on this clear June day the journey was worthwhile for we had a perfect view back to Interlaken and south across the snowy wastes. We took our lunch seated in the pure air and sun and then returned into the mountain for the station and the train this time down to Grindelwald. Once there we chose a café with a sunny terrace where we could sit and eat our ice creams contemplating the north face of the Eiger. A combination of sun, altitude and snow had intensified our suntans and given us that glow of health which would set us up for a few weeks. Reluctantly we wandered toward the station and rode the train back. We wanted to make this evening's dinner special as it would be the last leisurely one before the return to England. Back at the chalet forty winks, a shower and change. We needed the cool of the day to wear suits. Matt chose his Armani suit, beige in colour, set off by a shirt of darker, but still light brown and a dark green silk tie. To avoid constraints on time, but impose one on drinking we took the car and drew up at the Grand Hotel in Interlaken.

We spoilt ourselves with three courses, taking as the main one mountain trout which we could select from a tank, so fresh was our fish. We talked more about our experiences in Switzerland and our plans, not just for the remaining two days, but also for the reality of life in England. We appreciated our close friendship and would remember it with affection, but we were both sensible enough to realise that our lives had separate ways to follow and that although the bond forged by mingling our blood would always be there, we were free spirits able to take up where we had left off, should fate bring us together again. I made no secret of it to Matt that I would have been proud to have had a son like him and that it had been a great privilege to 'possess' him for two weeks. He took all this in the humble way I might have anticipated and under the table I could feel his hand caressing the inside of my leg in appreciation of my affection which he assured me he shared.

At eleven we left the hotel and drove slowly back to Spiez, the long way round the lake. I pulled up at a viewpoint and we watched the lights twinkling round the lake. Being June the sky did not grow fully dark, but was lit by the sun beyond the horizon in the northwest. There remained just one small act to consummate the ritual of the previous Saturday high up in the mountains. We each took out a small box from the glove compartment, one red, one blue. In each was a ring, a simple band of gold. On the inside of the one held by Matt were engraved the initials 'M & N'. Similarly inside the one I held the engraving read 'N & M'. In the silence of the lakeside we slipped the ring we held onto the little finger of the other's left hand. We sealed this exchange of rings with a kiss and thought back to the intense emotion of that night high up in the mountains with just the sound of the rushing River Rhine. Our hands had healed from that binding cut, but the line the blade had taken remained visible to close inspection. We put our arms around each other and sat there holding hands, completely at peace with the world and wanting for nothing. A gust of wind from the lake brought us back to reality. I started the engine and we sped back to the chalet.

We drew the curtains and stood there in an embrace. Our packets touched and stiffened. I unzipped Matt's fly and then my own and with our hands massaging the other's buttocks we drew tight together and started exploring our mouths with our tongues. I took Matt's jacket off and then his tie. While I was hanging them up he took off his shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt. We resumed the position, our packets probing each other. I too felt restricted by my clothes and stripped down to trousers and shirt and we continued to snog. I pulled Matt's shirt out, unbuttoned it and slipped it off, then undid his belt and the top of his trousers which slid to the ground. He likewise undressed me and we stood there, me in a crimson cotton Lycra slip and him in a turquoise blue silk thong, both displaying a damp patch. I sat back and admired him. This was the ultimate and far more exciting than seeing him completely naked. He posed, displaying his sixpack, showing his packet front view and in profile, his cock tucked up and his cock tucked down. I could resist it no more. Big as he was I lifted him in my arms and carried onto the bed. I pulled the duvet over us and we kissed and cuddled, sometimes with him on top, sometimes me, until the urge overcame us. We pulled off our undergear and finished each other off. We fell asleep in each other's arms only to wake a little later to find ourselves stuck together by our dried spunk. We separated with a feeling like pulling sticking plaster off and fell into a deep sleep till morning.


What we had planned for today was to go into Interlaken and attend the early service at the English church. We arrived back at nine thirty. Matt took off his Chinos and blue shirt and tie and we changed for tennis.

I knew Matt loved the game and if my luck was in I could put up a showing, but what a way to be beaten. His kit was stunning white and the material sufficiently fine for me to be able see the outline of his jockstrap. The straps crossing his buttocks were a real turn-on and reminded me of the attractive time when I was first getting to know him. It was at a cricket match and at tea he was there in a navy blue blazer, white shirt and immaculate flannels. Again the straps crossed his buttocks and the sight of them had made me stiffen up in my trousers. This was compounded later in the match when he was getting ready to bat. He was padded up and had already put his gloves on, but had forgotten to insert his box. It was in the changing room. To save him taking his gloves off would I put it in for him? I followed him into the empty changing room and I produced the article from his bag. Standing behind him I untied the bow of the drawstring on his flannels and tried to slip the box into the pouch, but freshly washed the two layers of cotton had stuck together. There was only one thing for it. I had to push my hand in to separate the layers. As I did, I could not avoid feeling his cock and in so doing it swelled and bucked. Matt did not flinch. Next came the second attempt to insert the box. No difficulty now, but as it slid down over his packet and under his bollocks he performed the natural reaction of pushing the bottom back and so felt the hardness of my own packet. Instead of recoiling he pressed his bottom against it while I retied the waist drawstrings. I have never underestimated Matt and looking back always thought that was the point of no return. I watched him at the wicket as he scored a respectable total not out, and it struck me then that the box had done little to enlarge his packet.

My glazed eyes refocussed and he said "A penny for your thoughts." Without the penny I still told him of my reminiscence as we drove down to courts and he gave me one of his knowing looks. We won't discuss the game. Suffice it to say that I came second, or I suppose I was first loser according to his tee shirt.

We took a long late lunch in Interlaken for we knew that there would be little time to eat this evening. I had secured tickets for an orchestral concert in Berne and I thought the formality would be a good experience. Anyway, we both enjoyed classical music. Back at the chalet we took a siesta in the garden. Later in the afternoon a quick shower and change. It was a dark suit occasion and Matt appeared immaculate in a single breasted dark blue suit. His black shoes sparkled and I was proud to be accompanying him. We went by train, of course. The main item on the programme was Beethoven's Eroica, but among the smaller items in the first half was a new one to me, a piece for orchestra and choir by Carl Jenkins called Palladio. We left the concert at ten and went for a well needed drink. The train journey was only half an hour with a frequent service throughout the night, so there was no panic there.

We arrived back at twelve after a satisfying evening. Matt's suit had survived the evening without a crease. He carefully put it away and came back into the sitting room in his step-ins. I soon got undressed and we went to bed. We lay there naked enjoying the feeling of our bodies close to one another, but for the moment that seemed sufficient and we fell asleep entwined. We woke after sunrise with the usual stiffy feeling so hard it would burst. We cuddled and stroked each other. He had no hair on his bollocks. They were entirely smooth. Smooth, large and loose. Matt put his head under the duvet and I could feel first his lips and then his tongue working away at my cock. I just let it happen and enjoyed every second. After we had finished I calmed him down with a simple hand job and after getting our breath back for ten minutes we got up for breakfast.


Our last full day. We were going to Zurich, shopping primarily. Matt had put on Chinos and a striped short sleeve shirt. We caught the ICE to Berne and then the non-stop train to Zurich. I suggested we split and met back at the station at two for lunch. It would speed up the process shopping separately and I was sure Matt could by now look after himself. I wanted to pop across to a men's shop called Tom near to the Schauspielhaus. Where the time went I do not know, but it was a quarter past two before I met Matt sitting on a bench in the station. We were both burdened with plastic bags. We put our goodies into a left luggage locker and went to get some lunch. I asked Matt what he had bought.

"This and that" was the non-committal answer. I knew better than to pursue the enquiry. After lunch we ambled down the Bahnhofstrasse to the lake. A short tour was leaving in five minutes. We strolled onto the boat and found a place in the sun.

Recovered from the strains of shopping we talked about the arrangements for the return home tomorrow. Back in Zurich we caught the tram to the station and made our way back to Spiez. I asked Matt what he wanted to do as it was the last evening. He was very clear in his own mind so I let him set the agenda. We went back to the local restaurant we had visited at the beginning of our stay. The meal was going to be one of their superb horse steaks. Afterwards we walked back and changed into some loose clothes. Matt poured the whisky and put on a video, a French film in German with the name Wilde Herzen.

As agreed we went to bed after the film and stripped each other's clothes off. He wanted to shag me again which I was pleased about providing I could have him in the shower in the morning. We worked our way up with a gradual snog until we were more than ready. He slicked my crevice up with the KY gel which I then applied carefully and conscientiously to his cock. I lay on the bottom edge of the bed. Standing over me at the foot of the bed he raised my legs, rested them over his shoulders and went down with due care and attention. As I felt his cock enter, I raised my buttocks to meet him and he  slid in making me draw in a quick breath. Slowly at first, but gradually quicker and deeper he thrust in his cock until he reach that point of massaging my prostate. It was the tops and as he sped up I felt my own spunk rising until it splashed out over my chest and chin accompanied by the shudders of Tim's body as he shot his load deep inside me. As I lay waiting for the climax I had phantasised about getting pregnant and producing a boy. A combination of our best characteristics he would be a world beater, but a combination of our worst characteristics wuld be another story, although in my eyes Matt possessed no such thing. When he had come Matt licked the spunk from my chest while I tried to clean my chin with my tongue. He wanted to try again, but we thought it wise to quit while we were winning. When morning came round we cuddled and kissed and then went into the shower for our last fling. This time I was in charge. Clean and dry I took a final look at Matt naked and savoured the moment before he put on a green thong, a green polo shirt and his 501s.


Breakfast over we packed, tidied our rooms and loaded the car. After a farewell to the chalet's proprietors we climbed into the car and headed for the airport at Zurich. For the first time during our stay the sky was dull and miserable and as we neared Zurich a steady rain began to fall. We handed back the MG to the hire people, completed the paperwork and wheeled our luggage to the check-in. Seated in the plane we waited for take-off and when it came we waved good-bye to Switzerland as we flew up through the clouds. We left the rain behind landing in sunshine at Heathrow.

Through customs and off to the carpark. I picked up my own car and we were soon on our way down the M4. We cut off towards the Cotswolds and at a convenient layby I pulled up and switched off the engine.

"Matt, I just wanted to thank you for such a fabulous time," I said, "and I've got a little souvenir." I produced two bags from the back seat. He unpacked the first one carefully. It was a picture frame and in the centre was a picture of us both up in the mountains at Lake Toma. Round the edges were shots of our various daytime exploits in Switzerland. He unwrapped a box from the other bag. In that there was a selection of designer undergear from Tom's men's shop. "I think I managed to get the size right and I want to see you wearing them."

"But as there was no one else to take a picture of both of us up at Lake Toma, how did you manage to get that one?"

"The magic of digital photography. You now know why I wanted to go off by myself in Zurich."

"I've got something to say thank you to you, as well." I unpacked the box and inside was the most beautiful, brilliant white silk shirt.

"How did you know I always wanted one of those?" There was no answer, just his knowing, tantalising smile.

As the road was empty I gave him a kiss and started up the engine. When we arrived at his house, Matt's parents were there to greet us. I helped him unload his luggage and we went in for a cup of tea. We hardly stopped talking. He was full of his adventures in Switzerland, the expurgated version. His mother commented on how well we looked, the holiday had obviously done us a lot of good. Time had come to depart. I had to cultivate my garden. With fond farewells and expressions of gratitude on all sides I climbed into the car and motored off back to the city.

(to be continued)