Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2003 19:15:49 +0000 From: Jeffrey Fletcher Subject: A Tale of Two Englishmen Part8 This is a story that involves sex between males. if such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere. This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental. The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author. My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages. This story is dedicated to Ron, who lives in an English village, and whose chance remark while we were chatting gave me the idea for this tale. The story bears absolutely no resemblance to his relationship with J. Neither Ron or J identify in any way with either character. Resume:- Malcolm and Simon are two gay men who live in a homophobic English village. They have met, but have carefully concealed their sexual orientation from each other. Both have been thinking over their own personal sexual stories. In this part we continue to look at their developing relationship. A Tale of Two Englishmen Part 8 It was in those dark and dreary days just after the New Year that Simon made his way through driving rain to the Eagle and Child, Whitgest's only Public House. It had been arranged that he would be meeting up with Malcolm there. This was a weekly arrangement, a drink, a game or two of dominoes, and also to talk. Simon was early. He pushed his way through the doors into the warmth of the pub. The bar was nearly empty, but there was a blazing log fire burning, making the place look bright and welcoming. There were two men and a young women sitting close to the fire. He did not recognise them. He went up to the bar and ordered a pint of bitter. The landlord was busy elsewhere and soon went away. Simon sat on a stool. The door burst open, and a blast of cold damp air went round the room. Simon turned to see if it was Malcolm. It was old Tom, one of the oldest inhabitants of the village. "Hi there, Tom. What weather? What can I buy you?" "Pint of bitter, thanks." The landlord had come through again and pulled another of pint of bitter. The two men drank about a third of their pints. "That's better," said Tom. "How's it going then, Simon. Are you feeling a villager yet?" "A bit. I reckon you have to be here for at least ten years, before you really feel that." "I don't know. I were born and bred in the village. Never been away, except for army service in the war years." "You must've seen a lot of changes in the place?" "You can say that again." "I know, there is something that you can answer. The Manor House up on the hill. It's now flats. What was it like before it was converted into flats?" "It were owned by the Penbarton family. Was owned by them for years, and in fact is still owned by a member of the family, but he lives elsewhere?" "When did the last one live there?" "The last one was a Sir Edward Penbarton, he must 'ave died in the early 80s. He was quite a scandal." "In what way?" asked Simon. " 'E were one of these homosexuals. 'E 'ad as lover, the Village Blacksmith. One George Blackstone. There were problems when he died." "In what way?" "George Blackstone dies first. Sir Edward got him buried, not with the rest of the Blackstone family, but next to the Penbarton family tomb. A real big one that is, with generations of the family tucked away inside waiting for the judgment day. The then vicar tried to persuade him not to, but to let George be buried with 'is Mum and Dad. But no. Sir Edward insisted. You know what these squires are like. Always like getting their own way. Then when he died, he left instructions that he was to be buried with George, and asked as well as his name on the grave, the words 'Lovers in life, lovers in death.' The church put its foot down over that. No way. I were on the Church Council and remember it being argued about." "Well, that is a story. So there's no Sir something Penbarton now, the line has died out?" "Oh no. The baronetcy was inherited by a cousin once removed. He changed the buildings into flats, and lets them out at some great rent." The door burst open again, and Malcolm came in. "What a night. I didn't realise how heavy the rain was. I should've come in the car." Simon bought a pint of Malcolm's usual. "Did you know old Sir Edward Penbarton, up at the Manor, Simon?" asked Tom. "No. He was old when we arrived in the village, and died a few years later. I never knew him. He took no interest in cricket." "That's all you're interested in," said Tom, and they all laughed. "I were just telling Simon 'ere, about old Sir Edward." Tom got no further because there was another cold blast from the door, and Mike, a younger man, in his forties came in. "You remember old Sir Edward, don't you, Mike?" asked Tom. "The dirty old sod. No, I don't actually remember him. But I know a bit about him." "I was just telling, Simon and Malcolm 'ere about 'im. 'E 'ad this long running affair with the old Blacksmith, come garage owner, George Blackstone. Spent most nights together." "How long had it been going on?" ventured Simon. "My old Dad said 'e thought it 'ad begun after Sir Edward finished 'is studies at Cambridge." "That long ago?" said Mike. "Sometime in the mid 1920s." "Wasn't there an outcry in the village?" asked Mike. "No. I think most people didn't realise at first. It only slowly dawned on folk that they were 'aving it off together. I think we realise these things more today than when I were young," said Tom. "Yes, we get it all the time. There's these gays on tele every night of the week. Eastenders, Coronation Street, you name it and there is some pooftah 'aving it off with another fancy boy. Don't you agree?" he asked Simon and Malcolm. Rather dumbly they gave a slight nod. They did not dare look at each other for fear of showing something of the truth about themselves to the other. "Why there's even homosexuals in the government, in the cabinet. Maggie wouldnt've stood for it,." said Tom. "I think it's terrible. And it's getting worse." "Look at this age of consent business. They can do it down to the age of 16 now." "But that's the same as for girls," interjected Malcolm, trying to say something pro gay, yet not revealing too much. "Yea, but it is different with girls," said Mike. "It's natural when it come to fucking a girl, but it is totally unnatural when it comes to men." "Your cock is made for two things," said Tom, in a pontificating way, "Pissing and screwing a woman. And the more of them the better," he added with a laugh. "I'd 'ave though you was past all that," said Mike with a laugh. "No way," said Tom proudly. "I may not get it up as often as I did when I was a younger, But I 'as my wife at least once a week, I'd 'ave you know." Both Simon and Malcolm were rather discomforted by this turn in the conversation. They both feared that they were going to be asked often with their wives. They were saved by Mike. "I think such men ought to be locked up and the key thrown away. Our lads aren't safe with men like that around." "Did Sir Edward seduce any boys in the village?" asked Simon rather warrily. "No, old George Blackstone did for 'im." said Tom. "Well George was big enough." Tom and Mike laughed. "I bet 'e were 'ung like a 'orse!" "I blame the Public School Sir Edward was sent to. It ain't natural to lock up boys in a boarding school for weeks on end. If they can't get out and sow their wild oats by screwing a few girls, it's small wonder they start screwing each other." "I gather such places a full of it. But it must be said in all fairness, old George Blackstone didn't go to no Public School." "Perhaps it was natural for him," said Simon quietly. "No way," said Tom and Mike together, almost shouting Simon down. "If I ever met one of these depraved monsters," said Mike, "I'd want to beat 'im up." Malcolm wanted a way of escape from this conversation, he looked across at Simon, "Dominoes?" "Good idea," said Simon. The landlord handed Malcolm a box of dominoes, and they went across to a table, taking their half drunk glasses with them, and leaving the Tom and Mike to continue their discussion. As they sat down at the table, their eyes met. It was one of those intensely significant moments. Sometimes two people's eyes meet, and they both perhaps share the humour of an incident, or horror at some remark a third party has made. In the brief moment that their eyes met they looked deeply into each other, it was a true meeting of minds. If they had been in a gay Pub they would have realised the significance of the glance. If it had been in a gay friendly pub, they probably would have realised. But it was in a straight Pub, after a homophobic conversation. Both realised that it was far more than a casual glance. Neither realised what they were seeing. The conversation at the bar with Mike and Tom, had caused both men to retreat into their sexual shells. The truth of their true sexuality had to be covered, thrust deep down into both of them, and there locked, barred and bolted. Neither realised, even the possibility, that they might be kindred spirits. The moment passed. The box of dominoes was opened and the pieces spilled out onto the table. It was a slow game. Neither's heart, or mind was in it. Both were recollecting the conversation at the bar Both thought they had been cowards in not saying more. Both were fearful of discussing it further for fear that the truth somehow came out. They exchanged few words. They left almost an hour earlier than usual. When Simon got home Pat asked, "You're early; wasn't Mal there?" Janice asked, "Did you and Simon have a row or something?" Both men joined their wives and watched television for the rest of the evening, but their thoughts were both elsewhere. Though neither realised it, that evening could have been a disasterous turning point in their relationship. They had not enjoyed each other's company, and with that look something significant had happened. But they did not know what it meant. They could have begun to drift apart. After watching the television Simon went off to bed. He did not read, but turned the light off and tried to get to sleep. The look he had exchanged with Malcolm in the Pub came back into his mind. It reminded him of something. He thought for a while and then the memory came back to him It was quite a number of years before. He was working hard, and had been steadily promoted. But he had found that regularly every month to six weeks he had an urgent need to get with a man. There had been on or two relationships that had survived several meetings, but on that particular Friday evening there was no one. He had told Pat that he would probably be late home. So as soon as he could get away, he left the office and made his way to a gay Pub in Soho. He had been there a number of times before, and knew what to expect. The Pub was very crowded, with a very mixed clientele. Some were like him, businessmen returning from work, still dressed in their dark working suits. Others were more casually dressed, and a third group would be the tourists, in London for a few days. Some had come as couples, others had formed into couples, and other like Simon were still hoping. There were a few larger groups, often all speaking and laughing loudly. Simon pushed his way through to the bar. There a row of attractive young bar men were busy taking orders. He ordered his usual pint of bitter, and moved away from the bar. There were men close by on every side. He took several deep mouthfuls of his beer, and looked around. Through a gap in the heads he saw another man loooking at him. They looked at each other, deeply, into each others eyes. Then someone between moved, and the sight line was blocked. Simon drank again. "Hi there." Simon turned, and there at his side was the man. somehow he had managed in those few seconds to infiltrate his way through the crowd between to stand at Simon's side. Simon turned fully so that they were face to face. "Hi there," he said with a smile. "Bit crowded this evening," said the man. They had to bend close to each other in order to be heard above the buzz of conversation, the background music, and the general noise of a busy Pub. "It often is on a Friday," said Simon. "Come here often?" "About once every two or three months or so. You?" "Bit more regularly, once a month." As they stood there, there were sizing each other up. They could only look at each others head and shoulders, they were far too close, to take a glance at each other's package. Simon saw a man of about his own height. Possibly ten years younger, with blue eyes and light wavy hair. The man had a most engaging smile. He was more informally dressed than Simon. "My name is Simon, or Si." Simon put out his hand, and they shook hands. "Mine is Andrew, Andy to my friends. I presume you have just finished work for the week?" "Yes, wanting a break from dealing with money" "Same here. There are more attractive things to handle than money." Simon felt Andrew's hand light brush his crotch. "I managed to get home and change before coming along here." Simon liked the look of Andrew, so he moved even closer, to give the man some encouragement. "I like this place because of the mixed group of men you get here." "Quite a cross section of society" commented Simon. "Of male, gay society," added Andrew. Again Simon felt Andrew's hand feel him quickly. He smiled and in response with his free hand he reached round and gave Andrew's left buttock a squeeze. They looked at each other and smiled. Both knew what the other wanted, and both were prepared to give it. "Are you married?" asked Andrew. "Yes, why?" "I thought so. Saw your wedding ring." "You?" "Single." "Free then?" "Yes. Your wife know?" "No way." "That's probably true for a good half of the guys in here at the moment." Simon looked around. "Maybe. Where do you live?" "Near Archway. You?" "Finchley." "Care to stop off at my place for a coffee or so, on your way home?" "That sounds a good idea." They both finished their drinks. Andrew took the glasses and returned them to the bar, and they made their way out of the pub. They walked quickly toward Tottenham Court Road tube station. The tube train was fairly crowded, so they stood close together. Few words were said, but both took every opportunity to look at the other. There was a frequent exchanging of smiles. They got out at Archway station, and Andrew directed the way. "I have a small flat. Suits my needs. Very handy and convenient." It was a small one bedroom flat, situated on the second floor. Andrew opened the door and led the way in. They turned and looked at each other. There was a short moment of hesitation. They put their arms round each other, and exchanged some kisses. Andrew broke away. "What would you like a beer, or coffee." "Another beer, please." Andrew led the way into a small sitting room. "Make yourself at home." he went on through into a small kitchen, and removed a couple of cans of beer from the fridge. Simon sat down on a settee. Andrew joined him. They drank from their cans of beer. Andrew put a hand on Simon's thigh. "Welcome. Good to have you here." "Good to be here. I hope!" They both laughed. Andrew leaned across and gave Simon a kiss on his cheek, and began to rub his hand on his thigh. Simon put his can of beer down, and turned, so his could give Andrew a full and proper kiss. Without breaking away, Andrew deposited his can of beer on a small table. They kissed with mounting passion. "I'm glad you like kissing." said Andrew. "Some men do not." "I know. I like it before, during and after." Simon's had moved up Andrew's thigh and was beginning to feel his crotch. He felt a hardening tool within. "I like what I can feel too." Andrew moved his hand, and felt Simon. "That feels a useful bit of equipment too. In working order, and already for action." Simon put both hands to Andrew's waist, undid the belt, and then unzipped his trousers. His hand went in, through the hole in the underpants, and held Andrew's cock. He pulled it out, so that he could see it. It was fully erect, and he suspected that it was uncut, thought was hard to tell in that state. It looked nearly seven inches long. "Mine's not so big, I'm afraid." "Doesn't matter. It's what you do with it that counts." Andrew proceeded to do the same to Simon. They sat for a moment side by side, each with a hand round the others cock, and looking at it. "Bedroom?" said Andrew. Simon just nodded. They both stood up, and with cocks sticking out proudly in front of them, they made their way into the small bedroom. "Can I undress you?" asked Andrew. "Of course." Andrew knelt down, and undid the shoes laces, and removed Simon shoes. Then off came the socks. He bent right down and placed a kiss on the instep of both of Simon's feet. "That was nice. I hope they don't smell after a hard days work." "Not much. I like to get to know the whole of a man's body, said Andrew. He stood up, and proceeded to undress Simon. The shirt came off, and Simon's chest, and especially his nipples were kissed and sucked. Andrew moved down and paid attention to the navel. Then he lowered and removed the trousers. Simon stood there in his pants, with his cock sticking out through the opening strong and hard. "Now for the final impediment." Andrew pulled down the pants, and Simon stood naked before him. "I like what I can see. I think we will be able to have some fun together." "Now, it's my turn. Let me undress you." Simon proceeded to undress Andrew in a similar way. They stood looking at each other for a moment. Andrew had some body hair, but not a great deal. Simon reached over and held his cock. It was bigger than his own. It was thicker at the base, and tapered steadily towards the head. The glans itself was not very big, certainly not as pronounced as Simon's mushroom head. There was a drop of pre-cum on the tip of both cocks. Andrew reached out for Simon's cock with one hand, while holding his own in the other. He rubbed the heads gently together, mixing their pre-cum. They pushed in together, put arms around each other and kissed. Both pairs of hands moved down to fondle each other's buttocks and begin to explore the portals of the delights further within. With one mind they moved onto the bed. Their love making was passionate, almost violent. They could not kiss each other deeply enough. Their tongues could not probe far enough. They both wished that God had created man with at least four hands, to touch, stroke and fondle. Their legs rubbed together. First one was on top, and then the other. Their ardour made them both breathless. They paused, lay side by side, looked at each other and smiled. "That was a hot preliminary!" said Andrew. "How long since you were with a man?" "Nearly two months, and the last time was just a mutual wank. How long for you?" "Ten days or so. I want you inside me. Deep inside. You happy with that?" "More than!" "Do you mind using a condom?" "Course, not." Andrew reached over to open a small drawer in the bedside table. He pulled out a condom, and some lube. "How do you want me?" asked Simon. "Me on my back, and my legs on your shoulders." They prepared themselves. Andrew lay on his back and pulled his knees up to his shoulders. Simon got in position with his cock resting between Andrew's buttocks. Andrew moved his legs up on to Simon's shoulders. He was fully exposed. Simon held his cock in position, and pushed forward. After a moments hesitation it began to slip smoothly and easily into the other man. They looked at each other. "That feels good," said Andrew. "I must hold it there for a while. I don't want to cum too soon." Andrew moved. "Keep still, or I'll cum." said Simon. Simon felt Andrew's cock and balls with his hand. Then feeling that the crisis was passing he began to move. Very slightly, very slowly he moved. "Oh man, that feels wonderful," said Andrew. "Take it as slowly as you like. Take all night if you want. This is bliss. Your cock fits perfectly." Simon's hand continued to feel Andrew's chest. He found that a gentle rubbing of Andrew's nipples was what the other man liked. Simon climaxed first. He felt it boiling up within. His balls contracted. And with three mighty spasms, he felt his spunk pour out into the condom. They both wished such precautions were not necessary. When Simon began to withdraw, Andrew said, "No hold it there as long as you can. I'm close too." Simon pulled on the other's cock a few times, and it too shot out four strong fountains of very white spunk that besplattered Andrew's chest up to his neck. They both collapsed, and Simon ended up with his head on Andrew's spunky chest. He watched fascinated as Andrew's large cock began to contract. The head dropped down onto the stomach, and then slowly the foreskin began to cover the head. It was like a face disappearing from you. Then finally, last of all, a pearly drop of semen appeared at the tip, and glistened in the light. Simon reached down, and took it onto his finger. He turned and showed it to Andrew, and then placed it on his own tongue. Andrew caught hold of Simon's hand and placed the finger in his mouth, and sucked it. The relationship with Andrew had lasted for a couple of years. It was at first a weekly get together. Nearly always at Andrew's flat, often on Simon's way home, involving 'working late.' They had eventually just drifted apart, finding further interests, other men. Simon lay in bed and turned his memory back to the initial look across the crowded Pub. Had it been the same look with Malcolm? Had Malcolm seen that he was gay. Was it shock, horror, disapproval that was behind the look on Malcolm's part? He feared that it might have been. There may have been something in what he had said when they were standing at the bar talking that had given the game away. Perhaps when he had suggested that George Blackstone's sexual desires were natural to him Malcolm had put two and two together. He felt that he would have to be especially careful when with Malcolm in future. Eventually after a solitary wank Simon fell asleep. At the other end of the village Malcolm too thought over what had happened at the bar. He too had a memory surface in his mind. It was a very different one to Simon's. It was at a meeting of the village cricket club. It was a business meeting, and there were plans afoot to develop and enlarge the pavilion. It was largely Malcolm's idea. Early in the meeting he had caught the eye of another member of the committee. He knew that the other person was going to be the implacable opponent to Malcolm's plans. Malcolm felt, that Simon had given him a similar look. He thought Simon must have realised that there was a large and frustrated gay part in Malcolm's make up. He too made the resolve to take care what he said in future. So it might have been. But it was not to be. In the morning Malcolm was at his computer. He wanted to do something and it would not do it. He tried this, and he tried that. He got more and more frustrated. He swore at his PC. Janice was cleaning the passageway outside Malcolm's den, and heard him, "Why don't you ring Simon, and see if he can help?" she said. Malcolm broke off for lunch, but in the afternoon he again had no success. So in sheer exasperation he rang Simon. "Si, I am trying to do something on my computer and it won't do it." He explained the problem. Simon only half understood. "I'll come round. Be with you in a few minutes." Twenty minutes both men were in Malcolm's den, the events of the evening before forgotten as they looked at the computer. Malcolm sat in his usual seat, and Malcolm stood behind and slightly to one side. Malcolm explained the problem. Simon began to make some suggestions. Malcolm typed, and something appeared on the screen. Simon leant forward to point to a particular icon, "Click on that" As he leant forward he placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, to help him keep his balance. When he stood up straight he kept it there. Neither man realised what was happening. Though there was no skin contact, the warmth and pressure of Simon's hand was felt by Malcolm. As they worked out the solution to the computer problem that physical contact working in the subconscious of both men healed the problems of the night before, and brought them closer together as friends. But there was still a long long way to go before either might have felt able to come out to the other. Footnote:- For those interested the story of Sir Edward Penbarton and George Blackstone can be read in the Nifty/Gay/Historical under the title Village Blacksmith posted Oct 18 2002. Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com