Date: Tue, 12 Mar 2002 21:32:40 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Countrymen Part 11

This story contains consenting sex between adult men.  If it is illegal to
read such material where you live, or you dislike such material, then surf
elsewhere.  All the characters are entirely fictitious, though some of the
places where incidents take place do exist.  The details of upper Swaledale
are correct, and the walk can be followed with the aid of a map from
details in the story.  All characters are entirely fictitious.  The
eccelsiastical dignitaries, bishops and archdeacons are entirely creations
of my own imagination.  Though readers may with the aid of place names try
to work out which dioceses are involved, and hence which bishops, that is a
useless task as I have deliberately tried to confuse.  Scrumwood could
easily be in one of four dioceses.

Thanks to those who have communicated with me.  I believe I have replied to
all who have done so.  My email is jeffyrks@hotmail.com



 Resume:- Phil, the narrator, a man in his 60s has met Colin, and begun a
sexual friendship with him.  Colin is a member of a small gay group, called
the Countrymen, and wants Phil to become a member.  He has met two other
members, Kevin a man in his 20s, who had a hard time at school, and Tom an
older man, who spent all his working life as a farm labourer, and in a long
standing relationship with Colin.  Phil has arranged to spend a day out
walking in Swaledale, UK, with Vic, who was also called Archie, or just
Arch, the fourth member of the group.  Archie is also called Vic because he
is vicar of Colin and Kevin's parishes.  Archie/Vic has just told Phil
about his schooldays.

The Countrymen Part 11.

We had reached the point where we had to turn off the track.  We now had to
go up a steep grassy footpath, with the early fronds of green bracken
beginning to show.  We walked in single file, so talking proved more
difficult.  Soon the path levelled out, and we were looking down on Swinner
Gill as it descended towards the Swale.  Again the extent of the view grew
as we climbed.  Eventually we came to the place where the foot path crossed
the Gill and went up the further hillside to join the Coast to Coast Path.
But Archie led the way beside the stream.  The sides of the valley closed
in.  By other standards, the Samaria Gorge in Crete, or other gorges
elsewhere in the world, Swinner Gill is a puny stream, and its gorge
minute. But it is nevertheless fun.  It is about six to ten feet across,
the sides are sheer, though only for twenty or thirty feet.  As it was
still early in the summer there was still quite a lot of water coming down
from the moors above.  We had to make our way up the hundred yards or so of
this particular stretch.  We had to step from rock to rock, and hold on to
the sides as we edged round corners. At one point we had to squeeze between
the rocks, taking off our back packs to do so.  We gave each other a hand
when necessary as we scrambled up the gully.

Then the sides opened out, and we were at the meeting of two streams, East
Grain and Hind Hole Beck .  Arch led the way up Hind Hole Beck, the going
was easier, but we were still following the bed of the beck, and scrambling
over some of the rocks. The side of the valley narrowed, and we were
confronted by a waterfall.  To the left there was a cave, and most of the
water from the fall disappeared into the cave, where no doubt there was a
pot hole.

Archie turned to me.  "There is always one thing that I like to do when I
come to a waterfall like this.  That is take a shower.  It reminds me of my
school days!"  With that he began to strip off.  Not to be out done, I
followed suit.  It was there we got our first glimpses of each other
without clothes.  And what did I see?  My first impressions from the car
park at Muker were confirmed.  He was of stocky build.  He was broad
shouldered and muscular.  His chest and back were covered with a
considerable amount of hair.  His cock jutted out, thick and solid.  It was
circumcised, like mine.

He went and stood under the water.  I went past him and stood under the
water.  It was freezing.  It took my breath away.  I got myself thoroughly
wet, but just a couple of minutes were enough for me.  The cold had got to
my cock and balls, they had more or less shrunk into my pubic hair.  I
don't think they had been so small since I was a small boy!  Archie's cock
was slightly smaller, but it still stuck out proudly.  As I walked passed
him I reached over and gave it a gentle squeeze.  I wiped as much of the
water off me as possible with my hands and began to get dressed.  Archie
soon followed.  The real difficulty was putting socks on damp feet.

"Lunch?" said Archie.

"I should say."

"Let's go up above the falls."

"There was a steep slope on the right of the falls, and with some effort we
both climbed up out of the gorge.  We were immediately in a different
world.  The hillsides slopped gently down to the beck.  The beck meandered
between interlocking spurs of the open moor. But there were areas of grass
by the side of the stream.  We found a nice grassy patch, took off our ruck
sacks, and got out our waterproofs to sit on.  We took off our boots.  The
exertion of climbing up by the waterfall, and the sun soon warmed us fully.

We sat side by side to eat our lunch.

When we had finished we both lay back, closed our eyes enjoying the
sunshine.  All was quite except for the sounds of Hind Hole Beck as it
chattered its merry way down towards the waterfall.  After several minutes
I felt Archie's hand touch mine.  Then his finger began to stroke my hand.
Then he put his hand on top of the back of mine, his fingers going between
mine which were out-splayed.  After a while I began to respond by stroking
his hand, doing the same to him.  It became quite erotic, and I felt the
organ which had lain in slumber between my legs begin to stir.

It was Vic who broke the silence.  "I can sense some phallic movement in my
crotch."

"So can I, and its rather nice," I replied.

As if controlled by some synchronising agency, we turned onto our sides,
facing each other.  We smiled.

"You're a good man, Phil," said Arch, "Kevin is right in all that he has
said about you.  I am glad we've met at last."

"I was wondering what you were going to be like.  Public School, Cambridge,
a parson, and a much better accent that mine.  But you're easy to talk to."
I reached up and touched his ear and stroked his cheek.

He moved closer, and gave me a kiss.  It was a very chaste kiss, such as
might be a first kiss between a courting couple at the start of their
relationship.

"Our first kiss," said Arch.  "I think we're going to remember that, and
this place."

We kissed again, but this time with a little more passion.  My hand held
his head, and stroked the back of his head as we did so.

"Do you know what I'd like you to do?" said Archie.

"No,"

"I'd like you to do to me what you did when you passed me you getting out
from underneath our waterfall shower."

For a moment I could not think what he was getting at, then I remembered.

Looking into his eyes, I reached across, and felt his shorts.  I
straightway undid the zip, and wormed my hand in so that I could hold him.

He smiled, nodded his head.  "Thank you."  He closed his eyes, and a look
of blissful contentment spread over his face as I gently held his cock, and
then felt around, and held his balls.  "You know how to do it to a man," he
whispered.  His cock stiffened as a result of my attention.  Now Vic's cock
is interesting.  Most cocks when flaccid are much smaller than when
engorged.  Vic's is not like that.  Neither its length nor its
circumference differ greatly between when it is erect and when it is at
rest. I felt that it might be a little shorter than mine, but it was
certainly bigger.  I held a handful.  It was good to hold and feel.  Arch
continued to enjoy my attentions.

Then he spoke again.  "One thing I cannot understand is why so many men
rush to their climax.  They seem to want to get it all over and done with
as soon as possible.  I am not like that.  I enjoy the preliminaries, I
enjoy the foreplay."

"Was that something you learnt from your French friend, Andre?"

Archie raised himself on to his elbow, and looked down on me.  "I suppose
it was.  I sometimes feel our mutual friend, Kevin is still a little
impetuous in his love making."

"He's young."

"Yes, he is bless him.  He'll be all agog to know how we've got on
together."

"And how far.  Exactly how long, to the second, I held your cock."

We laughed.

Vic's hand now reached across, and felt my cock through the thickness of my
shorts.  he undid my zip, and his hand gently crept in.  His thumb ran
across the top of my cock, and he must have felt the precum which I thought
had been oozing out for some time. He pulled his hand out, and licked his
thumb.  "Tastes good.  Nectar, the drink of the gods!"  His hand went back
to resume holding me.

"If precum is nectar, what is ambrosia then?" I asked.

"Good question.  I don't know.  Cum can't be, as it is a liquid.  Ambrosia,
food of the gods?  Will have to think about that one."

His hand came out and undid my belt.  "I require freer access," he said
with a grin.

"Same here."  I did the same to him, and lent across and gave him a kiss.
This time it was much more passionate.  As if my mutual agreement our
tongues met, and we were engaged in some fervent kisses.  Archie's hand got
my cock out.  "Good to have another circumcised one."

"Yea, the other three are all uncut."

"As a small boy I used to prefer boys with cut cocks," said Archie, "But
now I don't mind at all."

"Kevin influenced you over that?"

"Yes.  His cock has given me so much pleasure over the last few years, I
enjoy looking at it; I enjoy touching it, holding it; I enjoying sucking
it, and I enjoy it deep inside me."

"I rather like this one of yours I'm holding."  I now extracted his cock
from his shorts, so that I could look at it properly.  Again I was
impressed by its girth.  I knew that it would test my capacity more than
any previous cock I'd encountered.

"I think the two of them ought to be introduced properly," said Vic.

We wriggled closer and pushed our cocks together.

Almost immediately Vic said, "Let's get our shorts off, give us more
freedom."

Our shorts were soon removed, and we lay for a while side by side, pressed
together.  Then Archie pushed me on to my back and rolled on top of me.  We
ground our cocks together kissing each other all the while. With my hand I
reached down and felt his buttocks.  I could tell that he enjoyed that.

After a while we moved apart, and I had a good look at him.  His cock I had
already examined, now I could see his balls.  Testicles are a fascinating
part of the male anatomy, sometimes they hang low and loose, sometimes they
are bunched together, and at other times almost disappear.  If you watch
them, even when the rest of the body is still, they often stir within their
scrotal sack, as they continue to produce the seed for the perpetuation of
the human race, so that more gay men can be born, and also to give fresh
pleasure to their owner with each and every orgasm.  I felt Vic's balls,
they made a good handful.  I looked at them. Now over the next few months I
got to know Vic's balls very well, as with his whole body.  But that sunny
afternoon above the waterfall in Swinner Gill, they were bunched together,
and the sack was deeply crinkled.  I stroked them gently with my
forefinger.  Vic turned to me.  `That's nice, I like that.'  They stirred,
and his ball sack relaxed.

We lay close together, Archie on his back totally relaxed, and myself on my
side close alongside him.  One of my legs stretched over his.  Our
stiffened cocks were close together .  From time to time we kissed.  We
were enjoying the warmth of that early summer sun on the exposed parts of
our bodies.

He continued to lie still, my right hand roamed over him, playing with his
nipples, running through his body hair, feeling his cock and balls, and
just able to reach a little way further behind his balls. A look of
peaceful bliss spread over his face.  No words were passed between us, none
were needed.  My hand began to pay more attention to his cock.  Slowly but
steadily I began to wank him.  Now small murmurs of pleasure came from him.
I took those as encouragements to continue.  His breathing began to get
deeper, and his body began to go rigid.  I moved my hand a way because I
did not think he would want to climax.  He grabbed my hand, and put it back
on his cock.  `Please,' he said, `let me cum.'  I resumed the slow rhythm
of before.  I watched his penis, it grew even harder and slightly bigger in
my hand.  Then out shot three gushes of cum, just about six inches on to
his stomach.  That set me off.  I moved so I was slightly on top of him,
and I made my contribution to the spunk on his stomach.  We lay for a
moment, breathing deeply.  Then we kissed.

"Thanks, that was very fulfilling," said Vic.

I moved off him.  He reached down with one hand and with his forefinger
thoroughly mixed the spunk on his belly.  Then he took a finger full, and
licked one side of his finger, before extending it to me, and I licked the
other side.

"I reckon that that constitutes a full consummation of our union," he said.
"Penetration is an optional extra, and we can save that for another time."

"Thanks.  I enjoyed that too."

We lay back our sides and legs touching.  The sun continued to shine down
on us, as we lay there for many minutes with the early summer sun warming
us.  There was no need for further words between us.  I think we may have
even dropped off to sleep.

Archie broke the silence.  "Phil, I found that very meaningful.  I am
finding this day very enjoyable.  Not just what we have just done.  But
also being able to talk and share together.  I found that time of love
making just what was needed.  It shows to me again, that it is very
possible to have a good time without necessarily with penetrations and
fucking."

"I believe it is true to say that 70% of gay men never fuck."

"Is it as high as that?"

"I believe that statistic was published in the Lancet [See footnote] or
somewhere a year or so ago."

"We enjoyed what we did; and we have still got a lot more to look forward
to."

"Have we got much further to walk?" I asked.

"We're about half way, give or take the odd few miles," said Archie with a
grin.  "We'd better be moving soon.  But I don't want to go."

We gave each other some more kisses.

"Kevin speaks very warmly of you," I said.  "He told me about how it all
started between you."

Vic laughed, "That is just a small part of my story.  I have got you up to
the start of my University days, I'd better tell you the rest."

We started moving.  We got dressed, and put our boots back on.  With a look
back at the place that would always hold happy memories for us both, we
began to make our way back to the path.  We did not climb back down by the
waterfall, but made our way along the hillside where it was not so steep.
Eventually we regained the Coast to Coast Path, and began to go eastwards
towards Gunnerside Gill.  For the first part of the way we had to walk in
single file, so talking was not possible.  We soon found the new track that
leads across the top of the Moor.  At last we could walk side by side.

As we walked Vic took hold of my hand.  There is something very good in
walking hand in hand with a gay friend.  It is frowned on in this country.
If we had been seen there would have been shocked looks unless it had been
in Soho, or Brighton, or Canal Street in Manchester.  A boy and girl can
walk hand in hand, a man and a woman can walk hand in hand, two girls or
women can without too many looks of disapproval, but not two men who are in
love with each other.

"So did you get into the trousers of that Adonis who called at your room in
Queens'?" I asked, to get the story going again.

Archie laughed.  "No I did not.  His name was Alan.  He'd called to invite
me to a special service being held by a Christian group a couple of days
later.  It was to be in Holy Trinity Church in the centre of town."

"Did you go?"

"Oh yes, I went.  I thought the opportunity of sitting close to this guy,
possibly very close to him, was too good to be missed."

"In all that you've so far told me, I don't think you've once mentioned
church or religion, yet you're a parson."

"I was brought up in one of those conventional C of E [Church of England]
families.  At home we went to church about once a month.  It was the
respectable thing to do.  I think my mother regarded it as setting a good
example to the lower classes.  There was quite a lot of religion at school.
Prayers, and at Public School services in the school chapel.  For me it was
just something that was done.  I didn't question it, I just accepted.  I
was certainly not religious by any stretch of the imagination.  I suppose
if asked I would have said that I believed, but it was not in any way
relevant to any of my other beliefs, thinking or conduct.

"So it was something of a surprise when Alan actually called on me, and
invited me to go with him to this service.  I went.  We walked from College
to Holy Trinity.  The service was ordinary enough.  The usual hymn, some
prayers, a reading from the Bible, and then another hymn, and then the
preacher.  I was rather bored by all those preliminaries, and looked
around, and thought, why have I come here, when I could have been doing
something much more worth while.  I don't know if you ever watch Star
Treck. Phil?"

"I do from time to time."

"You may remember that there is such a thing as a tractor beam.  It can
hold another craft at a fixed distance from the Enterprise, or draw the
other craft to the Enterprise.  When the preacher started his sermon it was
as though I was held to him by one of those tractor beams.  He seemed to be
speaking to me and me alone.  It was not as though he looked at me.  I was
not conscious that he did that at all.  But his words were to me.  It was
as though there were no other person in that church.  I was totally
absorbed in what he was saying.  He talked about God, the love of God,
supremely seen in his Son, Jesus.  He talked about my need of what God
wanted to give to me.  Yes, it seemed that he was speaking to me, just to
me.  I thought he spoke for about five or ten minutes, I afterwards learnt
he spoke for nearly an hour.  He concluded his sermon, and then said that
if any one wanted to make a step of commitment, they could speak to him, or
one of his team.  Would we come out during the next hymn and go and sit or
stand in the choir stalls at the front.  I was out of that pew as soon as
the first verse of the final hymn started.  I was surprised to find that
there were a number of others following me.  When the hymn was over the
preacher gave a blessing and all those still in the pews began to leave.
The preacher came over, and talked to us all for a few minutes and said
that he would like to give us all a booklet.  These were handed round.
I've still got it somewhere.  Then he suggested that we spoke briefly to
himself or to one of the people standing around with him.  He came straight
over to me, apparently he always liked to speak personally to whoever came
out first."

"What did he say?"

"Do you know Phil, I have forgotten.  I felt I was floating on air.  I knew
that something wonderful, and tremendously significant had happened to me.
He prayed very quietly for me.  Had I known just an hour or so before that
the preacher would be praying with me, and for me, I would've run a mile.
But it all felt natural.  It felt good.  When I got outside the church Alan
was there waiting for me.  We walked back through the dark streets of
Cambridge to Queens', and I tried to put into words what had happened to
me.  I found it difficult to do so, but he understood. Have you ever had
any sort of religious experience, Phil?  Any experience of the numinous?

"I don't quite know what you mean, exactly. I am not a religious sort of
person." I replied.

"No, I am not asking that.  Have you ever had some experience that was
utterly out of the ordinary, something that moved you deeply.  For some
people it is hearing a piece of music, or seeing a sunset.  You can see
hundreds of sunsets, and then there is one that touches you in a way none
has ever done before."

"I don't know that I have.  I'm a very humdrum sort of guy.  The nearest I
can think of was falling in love with Steve, when I was working at the bank
in London.  After that encounter with him that Thursday night in his flat,
I felt totally changed."

"Yes, that is something of what I am trying to say.  For me I had fallen in
love, not with another guy, or a lass, come to that, but with God.  I had
fallen head-over heels in love with Him.  It was a sort of, love at first
sight, sort of experience.  I think that is about the best way to describe
it."

"I think I can understand.  Just a bit." I rather lamely replied.

"I woke the next morning feeling wonderful and different.  There's a hymn
with the lines, heaven above is softer blue,/earth around is sweeter green.
When I got out of bed that morning and looked over the Backs, a wonderful
outlook at the best of times, but that morning it seemed transformed.  The
blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the beginnings of the autumnal
tints on the leaves on the trees.  It was a wonderful experience.  But I
also knew that there was something I had to do as soon as possible that
day.  That was to buy a Bible.

"I had just got washed and dressed when there was a knock on the door, it
was Alan.  He was a good friend, in many ways.  No, not in the way I had
originally hoped.  He gave me time, he spent half an hour with me before
breakfast every morning.  He taught me how to read my Bible.  When I told
him I needed to buy one he suggested which modern translation.  He taught
me how to pray.  We discussed aspects of the Christian faith as they
occurred to me.  I owe a lot to him"

"But what happened about sex?"

"That is a good question.  I have thought about it a lot over the years. I
think a number of inter-related things happened one after the other.  My
religious conversion was not just a total surprise to me, it was a totally
life changing experience.  My whole way of thinking, my whole approach to
life was altered. I think initially my sexual desires were totally swept
away by what had happened.  Other things, my new faith, totally dominated
my horizon.  It dominated my thinking and my desires."

"I find that hard to believe, with what you said earlier about your life at
school, and what had so recently happened with Andre in France."

"In many ways I find, and found then, it hard to believe.  All I can say
that it was so.  Very soon something else came into play.  I was also being
profoundly influenced by the Christian group to which I now belonged.
There was I, a young Christian, new to it all, and naturally what the
others believed and practised had a deep influence on me.  Sex in all its
shapes and forms was treated with great wariness.  Sleeping around for the
straight guys was out.  That was fornication or adultery and strictly
forbidden in the Bible.  Straight sex could only be practised between
married man and his wife, but never between anyone else.  Gay sex was so
totally taboo, it was the sin the dared not speak its name.  Remember this
was in the late `60s.  Consenting sex between gay men when in private had
only recently been decriminalised.  The Christian group was always fighting
a rear guard action, and was behind the times in tackling these issues.
Most Christians today dare not face up to it and discuss it in a rational
way.  Even today all hell would break out if I suggested a discussion on
the subject in any of my churches."

"Kevin has mentioned to me the views of another of your wardens, Colonel
Hiron?"

"I once heard him discussing the issue.  Discussing is the wrong word,
totally condemning anything to do with homosexuality.  Homophobic bigotry
is alive and well where I work."

"I think it is alive and well in many other places as well."

"I did not even have to raise the question to know that it would be
condemned.  I just accepted that that was the Christian view.  But there
was something else.  I was in a new situation, a fresher at University.
There was work to be done.  There was sport to be played.  And there was
this Christian Group, and that alone could take up an awful lot of one's
time.  I think that too had a part to play though less than the other two."

"So no sex.  What about masturbation?  Were you allowed to give yourself a
good wank?"

Archie laughed.  "I did.  But the danger there was thoughts.  There is that
verse in the Sermon on the Mount about whoever lusts after a woman commits
adultery with her.  I presumed that lusting after a man suffered from an
even stronger condemnation.  I think I fudged a bit with that one.  Things
had moved on from not very long before, when it was believed wanking caused
blindness, insanity and so on."

"I know.  I am older than you." I said. "In my young days I heard such
things mentioned as `we no longer believe that....'  As if not believing it
caused insanity and everything else was being very avant-garde.  Things
have changed a lot."

"How did the work go?"

"Very well indeed, I quite enjoyed it.  I must confess it all seemed to
come quite easily to me.  But half way through the term I began to have
some other ideas.  I began to think that I might be being called to become
a Priest, and getting ordained.  To spend my life in the ordained ministry
of the Church of England, rather than serve as some sort of intelligence
officer in the Royal Navy.  When I mentioned this to Alan, together with
the possibility of changing from reading the Modern Languages Tripos to
reading Theology.  He was far from wholly supportive and encouraging.  I
think he thought it was all rather quick.  There was also a certain amount
of suspicion and reservation about academic theology in the religious
circles in which I was s moving.  I did however have a word with my tutor,
and he sent me to talk to someone in the theology department.  One of the
problems for most students is doing New Testament Greek, they find it a
hard grind.  When I told him I had done O Level [See footnote] Classical
Greek and was reading modern languages he thought it would not be a problem
for me.  By the end of term it was all settled I would read theology."

"How did your parents take all this?"

"The Christmas Vac [Vacation] was difficult.  Christmases at Crippleshanks
were a thing of the past.  So we were at Silverhanger.  I had some very
painful sessions with my father.  He found accepting that I'd got religion
difficult enough.  But when I told him I was going to read theology and
hopefully get ordained, he hit the roof.  `What happens if you are not
accepted for ordination?' he said, `What bloody use is a degree in theology
then?'  There was another matter giving us all concern.  My mother was not
looking at all well.  Our family doctor was sending her to see some man in
Harley Street [See footnote] in the New Year.

"I was glad to get back to Cambridge.  There I had my Christian friends,
and all the activities of University life. I did a lot of work on my New
Testament Greek in the Vac.  I found it all quite easy after doing
Classical Greek.  At my first tutorial, when I was back up at Cambridge, we
were looking at one of the Gospels.  The others in the tutorial were really
struggling, but I managed well, especially when it came to parsing. That
tutor was a stickler for grammatical accuracy."

"What about your mother?"

"After several months of seeing various specialists, she was eventually
diagnosed as having some rather rare blood condition.  The long term
outlook was not very hopeful.  I went home for a day to see how she was
getting on, and was surprised how much worse she looked.  Alan invited me
to go and stay with him, for a few days during the Easter Vac."

"Did you go?"

"Yes, his folk lived in a suburb of Cheltenham.  It was the first time I
had spent time in a semi- detached house.  It seemed so small after places
like Silverhanger and Crippleshanks, and the other houses in which my
relations tended to live."

"I don't know what you will think then of my tiny terrace house." I said.

"I will be fine.  I have worked in a couple of really tough parishes, where
nearly all the housing is small.  In the parishes the conditions were often
grim.  But all that was an eye opener still to come.  I enjoyed theology.
Did Hebrew as well, that was an optional subject.  It was interesting
learning a totally different language.  During my second year I went for a
selection conference and was accepted for training for the ministry of the
Church of England.  I decided I would go to a theological college in
Oxford.  When I took my theology tripos [See footnote] I got a first, and
there was pressure on me to continue studying and get a D.Phil or Ph
D. somewhere.  But I said no, I wanted to get out and get on with the work
of Christian ministry."

"And what was happening with you on the sexual front."

"I tossed myself off from time to time.  Often felt guilty about it
afterwards.  I thought about Bobby, Sam and Andre at times, but I was busy.
I led a very full life."

"What about in the showers after a rugger match?"

"Maybe I stole an occasional glance," said Vic with a grin.  "But I knew
that to do that was to court temptation, so I kept my eyes up!  I was
putting down my sexual activity at school to a phase.  It was just a
passing phase that I had grown out of."

"What did you get up to during the summer, the Long Vac: is that what you
call it?"

"That's right.  During the Long Vacs I usually went on some Christian camp
or activity for two or three weeks as a worker. When I was at home I
usually played some cricket.  Usually managed to score a few runs and take
some wickets.  And believe it or not, I did a lot of reading and working at
my Greek and Hebrew."

"Then it was theological college?"

"I chose to go to Oxford as it would be a complete change of scene.  I also
wanted to hear some lectures from the theological staff there.  Because I
had a degree in theology I was exempt much of the usual work."

"Lucky you."

"In some ways, yes.  They made sure I continued studying.  I wrote one or
two articles and got them published in a learned journal.  One was on the
meaning of a particular Hebrew verb.  All very rarefied.  I enjoyed
theological college.  Great crowd of chaps.  Of course, no women students
in those days, though a number of the men were married or engaged to be
married."

"So when did you get married?"

"I met Pen while I was at Oxford.  Her full name was Penelope
ffrench-Cousins.

"Another hyphenated name?"

"Yes, we were from similar backgrounds.  She was a nurse in the hospital.
We used to have to take ward services on a Sunday, as a part of our
practical training.  We met at one of those.  We chatted on a couple of
occasions and then I plucked up courage to ask her out for a meal.  That
was the beginning of our relationship.  Her family was deeply religious,
and very committed.  One guy at Cambridge was reputed to have said to men
students, `Make sure you marry a girl keener than yourself.'  The wags said
that was the reason he'd never married, because he practised what he
preached. I think I may have tried to do what he said.  We got engaged
right at the end of my time at Oxford, just before I was ordained deacon.
During my last Christmas Vac I was summoned to see my own diocesan bishop.
I went to the place where he lives, and was shown into his study.  He
handed me a glass of sherry, and asked about my work.  He seemed to know a
lot about me.  `Now Archibald, I don't want you going off to some middle
class suburban parish in the London Bible belt, where you will find people
like yourself.  You need to get away from academia, and get some experience
living and working among people who have to count the pennies, have job
insecurity, and whose horizons are strictly limited.  I am going to write
to your college principal saying just that, and suggesting that you look at
a couple of parishes in this diocese.  The incumbents of those parishes are
among the best priests in this diocese, they are unsung heroes.  If they,
or you, don't fit, you can look elsewhere, but my advise is to get some
experience working in a different milieu from that of Oxbridge, or
Silverhanger and its immediate environs. Then you might be of some real use
to the Church.' "

"Did you take his advice?"

"It was not advice, it was an episcopal command.  I agreed with him.  I
went and looked at the first parish, and liked the man who'd be my boss.
Then I had to take Pen to be inspected.  The vicar, who'd be my boss,
promised us blood, sweat and tears.  And we accepted.

"I was ordained in the Cathedral that summer.  My mother, who was by that
stage a very sick woman managed to get to the service.  She was in a wheel
chair.  It was the last time she left the house at Silverhanger.  Three
weeks later she was dead."

"How did you feel over that?" I asked.

"It was a great blow.  Not that I'd ever been really close to either of my
parents, but her death made me realise that she had loved me, though she'd
had difficulty in showing it.  It also showed me that I loved her, and how
much I would miss her.  It is sad how often we only really realise these
things when it is too late. My father came out of the Navy, and soldiered
on at Silverhanger for about five years, until my kid brother went off to
University.  Then he sold the place, and bought a flat in London.  That
meant he could go to his Club and meet his ex-Naval colleagues.  The family
began to drift apart when Mother died."

"How did you get on in your work?"

"It was great.  The vicar, my boss, was a wonderful guy.  I learnt so much
from him, and he was such an example of dedication and commitment.  What is
more, and this was more unusual in such a workaholic, he was good to me
about getting time off and so on."

"How did you get on with the people in the parish."

"It was a very steep learning curve.  Once they knew I accepted them, and
liked them, appreciated their cockney humour, and was not looking down my
nose at them, it was fine."

"Was your accent a problem?"

"It may have been a bit to begin with, but in the long run , no, I don't
think so.  I think the general verdict was, `he talks posh, but he's all
right.'

"So when did you and Pen marry?"

"In the following July.  We were married in London, at St Martin's in the
Fields.  The bishop conducted the wedding, my old college principal from
Oxford gave the address, and my vicar did the prayers.  The reception was
at the Dorchester."

"Quite a society wedding then?"

"Pen's family would not have allowed us to get away with anything less.  We
invited about half a dozen folk from the parish, churchwardens and such
like.  I think they were rather overawed by it all.  It was a unique
experience in their lives.  They talked to us quite a lot about it
afterwards."

"Honeymoon?"

"Three weeks in Italy.  First ten days at a friend's villa in Tuscany, the
rest some sightseeing, Rome, Florence and Venice."

"Sex?"

"Of course!  There was no sex before marriage."

"I presumed that, that's why I didn't even ask."

"I think I would say the sex was quite good.  At least to begin with.  Pen
was rather hesitant about trying anything other than the good old
missionary position.  The two girls were born while I was still a curate.
It was all a squash as our accommodation was a small flat.  But that just
made us realise how the majority of people live.

"When I had done two and a half years I was summoned to see the bishop.  He
talked to me about a move.  I asked whether it would in any way count
against me if I stayed in the present parish.  He said it would not, and
that he was delighted that I was not fleeing into one of the fleshpots.  I
am not sure what some of those in more well heeled parishes would have said
about being referred to as a fleshpot!

"So I laboured on.  If asked I would have said my homosexuality was just a
thing of the past."

"Did Pen know about it?"

"No way.  She would have been horrified and scandalised.  I thought that
was all over and done with. A closed chapter.  I was decidedly
conservative, almost fundamentalist, in my theology.  That meant I was
strict over personal moral issues.  It is strange how high sexual sins are
reckoned by parts of the Church.

"Then just two and a half years later when I was beginning to think I ought
to be moving I got a letter from a midland bishop asking me to look at a
parish in the industrial midlands. Scrumwood was north east of Birmingham.
It was one of those small old villages that had been swallowed up by a huge
council estate.  Parts of the church building were about seven hundred
years old. It was not one of those vast Victorian barns, seating hundreds
and filled by tens.  The vicarage however was a Victorian building.  It
stood next to the Church, in a huge garden, with many trees and shrubs in
it.  The house had six bedrooms, servant's quarters.  Still had a bell
system for summoning the maids.  It was as cold as the opposite of hell in
the winter.  The parish was a real challenge.  I accepted it.  I later
found out that eight or nine other men had looked at it and said no, and I
expect there were others who turned it down without even looking at it.

"One episode of significance happened during my first year.  There was one
man called Brian who, with his wife, was very regular at Church.  They had
a grown up family, with a younger son who was at University.  One day Brian
came round to see me.  He was obviously upset.  So I asked him in, and sat
him down with a cup of tea.  He found it very difficult to say what he
wanted to say.  Eventually he got it out.  The younger son had written home
some months earlier to tell his parents that he was gay.  This he said was
difficult enough to come to terms with.  But now the son had written again,
to say that he had a boy friend, and he wanted to bring him home to meet
his parents.  The son had already been to his boy friend's family, and his
folks had been totally accepting, and had made him feel very welcome. He
showed me the letter, and in it the son certainly implied that he had slept
with his lover in the lover's parental home.  Alan wanted to know what he
should do.  I quizzed him about his attitude.  `I'm against it.  The bible
says its wrong.  Its unnatural, and that's that!'  I am afraid, Phil, I
went along with him.  My theological position at that time meant that I
agreed with him.  I was a hard liner, Phil!  I said that while he should
welcome his son home, he must be careful not to be condoning something
sinful.  He should certainly not allow them to sleep together.  We talked
it over, and eventually decided that though the son would be welcome, his
lover would not be.  Phil, I have felt so guilty over that incident."

"You could've advised worse.  You could've suggested that the gay son
wouldn't be welcome back home," I said.  "Some parents do."

"I know.  But it was wrong.  I feel so ashamed."

"But you said and did what seemed right to you then.  We all do things
thinking what we do is right, and then afterwards realise that what we've
done is wrong.  Its a part of life.  I guess we both in some way feel
guilty that we got married.  But we were doing what seemed right to us
then.  I know that if homosexuality was in the open when I got married, as
it is now; then I would never have got married."

"I suppose, you're correct," said Vic.  "Any way to continue with my story.
After eighteen months the bishop said I could have a curate.  It was hard
work, but exciting work.  Very slowly there were encouragements.  The
congregation began to grow.  We even began to pay our contribution to the
diocese in full.

"Then I met Harry.  The bishop had sent me to a conference at Swanwick in
Derbyshire on Christianity in an Industrial Society.  What I did not know
then was that I was a marked man."

"A marked man! that sounds ominous."

Archie laughed.  "I was a marked man in that it was thought that I had
episcopal potential, if not that, at least I was Archideaconal material.
Several things pointed that way.  Background, Public School and Oxbridge
still count for something.  Academically I had done well, and had even
published in a learned journal.  Then I had worked in a couple of tough
parishes, and was making a success of it.  I was married, a big plus.  My
wife was socially accomplished.  I was reckoned to be efficient with the
administrative side of the job.  I think that was because I always answered
letters promptly!  I later learnt that the bishop had his eyes on me for a
totally different parish, to broaden my experience.

"Anyway, I went to Swanwick.  One evening there was a workshop, seminar, or
discussion group, whatever was the in-word in those days.  As usual I could
not keep my big trap shut, and spoke out. There was this other guy, Harry.
He disagreed with me most strongly.  We were actually sitting next to each
other, though we hadn't met before.  Eventually the meeting stopped and
everybody else made their way to the bar, or coffee, or to the phones, to
the ring home.  Harry and I stayed talking.  He was everything I was not.
He was working class. He came from a comprehensive [see footnote]
background.  He was on the Catholic wing of the Church of England, I was at
the opposite, conservative evangelical end.  He was all for smells and
bells, I placed a ministerial emphasis on evangelism and preaching.  We
stayed there discussing, sometimes quite heatedly, for about an hour and a
half.  Next day we made a point of getting together to continue from where
we had left off.  He was a curate in a parish in East London.  But he had
been asked to look at a parish about ten miles from Scrumwood, where I was.
Though the parish he was going to look at was in a totally different
diocese.  At the end of the conference we exchanged addresses, and I
thought that was likely to be that."

"But it wasn't!" I said.

"No, it wasn't.  But don't rush to too many conclusions just yet.  It
must've been three or four months later that I received an invitation to
his Institution and Induction.  [see footnote] There was a note from him.
`I do hope you can come.  It would be good to have a pub lunch together
sometime.'  I went to the service, and afterwards we arranged to meet about
half way for a pub lunch."

"Did Pen know all about this?"

"Yes, of course.  I had told her about the guy at Swanwick.  She knew that
I had received an invitation to Harry's institution.  We soon had a regular
pattern going of meeting about once a fortnight for lunch.  We used to eat,
and then if the weather was fine, and we both had time, go for a short
stroll.  If the weather was inclement we'd sit in the car and talk.  So
over a period of time a friendship grew up between Harry and myself.

Then after a couple of years several things began to happen.  I have
thought back to that time a lot, but I cannot put events in any order, as
several of them where gradual.  Pen said she wanted to get back into
nursing before it was too late.  We talked it over, and she did just that.
We certainly did not need the money, we both had incomes of our own, apart
from my church stipend.  But she wanted to get out of the house, and keep
up a career of her own.  There was a hospital about six miles away that was
only too pleased to take her on.  She worked part time at first, later she
was full time.  It meant that she worked shifts.  The only difficulty was
when one of the girls was ill, and had to be at home.  But we managed,
there were always one or two women in the Church only too pleased to earn
something baby sitting, or perhaps I should say child minding, at the
vicarage.  Harry's wife too went back to work, she got a job work part time
as a solicitors secretary.

"Then my father died.  I had a phone call in the middle of one morning to
say that he'd had a stroke, and was in hospital.  Having a curate meant
that I was able to get away, by piling a whole lot of jobs on to him.  He
was a good lad.  Dad was bad, and I had three weeks trying to get down to
see him as often as I could, and doing as much parish work as I could.
Then the hospital rang to say that he'd taken a turn for the worse.  When I
got to the London Clinic my brother and sister were already there.  An hour
later he passed away.  The death of one's second parent is more than the
end of a chapter, it is the end of a major section of your life.  There was
the funeral to arrange."

"Did you take it?"

"No, I was too closely involved.  I got an old Oxford friend to take it,
who had a parish in Islington in the London diocese.  Dad's death meant a
lot of money came our way.  To many people I was now in the fortunate
position of being able to live comfortably without working."

"Did you think of doing that?"

"No.  I did not want to mooch around for the rest of my life.  I loved my
work.  To me the work of Christian ministry is the most wonderful job in
the whole world.  There was not way that I was going to give that up, and
pursue some hobby like golf or bridge."

"Not even cricket?"

"Not at my age then.  Though I was still playing some cricket.  I played
for the diocese in the Church Times Competition."

"Still bowling your googlies?" I asked.

"Yes, still bowling my googlies as taught to me by Bobby.  Bless him."
Archie paused for a moment before continuing.  "With part of what I'd
inherited I bought a small cottage down in Devon.  It is small, just two
bedrooms.  I'll take you down there sometime.  It is all by itself.  Very
quiet.  Its an ideal place to go to recuperate, or the exact opposite, to
get down to some preparation work or writing.  We used to go down with the
kids for short breaks, always after Christmas and Easter, and at the
various half terms."

"Sometime about then I had the first of my sex dreams.  I dreamt that I was
back at my prep school, but I was older, possibly in my late teens or early
twenties.  I was having sex with the headmaster!  Just before climaxed I
woke up with a start, and a raging hard on.  I got out of bed, and
disturbed Pen in doing so.  `What's the matter?' she said.  `A bad dream,'
I replied.  I went downstairs and made myself a cup of tea, and put some
whisky in it.  I sat down in the kitchen, puzzled and horrified by the
dream.  I may have mentioned that the head of that school was a sadistic
ogre.  In every way he was one unattractive man.  Here was I dreaming of
having sex with him.  I was horrified, and a little ashamed. I sat there
thinking about it, wondering where that dream had come from.  It was a very
powerful one.  Not one you snatch at trying to remember as you wake up.  It
kept coming back into my mind for several days afterwards.  Eventually I
went back to bed, but I lay there for a long while thinking about the
dream.  In the morning Pen asked me about the dream.  I gave some evasive
answer, but she wanted to know what it was about.  Fortunately one of the
girls came in, and so I didn't have to tell her.  That dream triggered off
memories of my past.  I wondered especially about Bobby, the lad at
Silverhanger, and Andre, the French bookseller.

It must have been about six weeks or so later that I had another dream.
This time I was running away from something.  What it was I don't know.
But running with me was this Indian boy."

"Sam, from your school days?" I asked.

"No.  This boy was much shorter than me.  Sam was always bigger than me
when we were both at school, though I have probably ended up the same
height as him.  I was helping this boy to flee. What from I don't know!  I
had a hand under his arm to help him run faster.  Then we were safe.  We
stood still, and I looked down at him.  He looked up at me, with great big
brown eyes, and smiled at me.  He was incredibly beautiful.  I was
transfixed by him.  I bent down and placed a kiss on his brow.  Immediately
he flung his arms round me, and kissed me in return.  We kissed each other
with increasing passion.  He began to grind his groin against me.  I was
aroused, and I could feel that he was too.  Then I woke up."

"With a cock as stiff as a ram rod?"

"Exactly.  I got out of bed, and made my way to the bathroom.  Fortunately
I did not wake Pen that time.  In the bathroom my hand soon brought me to
climax.  I made my way downstairs, wondering even more what these sexual
dreams were all about.  I was horrified by them, in one way.  What was I a
married clergyman, with two children, doing having sexually explicit
dreams?  And not dreams with my wife, or even with another woman, but with
a boy!  Was my past in some terrible revengeful way catching up with me?
But I was forced to admit that there was something I liked about the
dreams.  I was so sorry that I had woken just before the climax.  There was
a part of me that would have loved to go on and enjoy love making with that
Indian boy.  I felt guilty about feeling that.  Again the dream stayed with
me.  .  Over that week I found myself repeatedly thinking about the dream.
Only slowly over the next week did it fade in my memory"

"What did you do about it in the longer run?  Seek help, see a counsellor,
or psychiatrist?"

"No. I am afraid that my part of the church regarded such people with grave
suspicion, unless they were committed Christians.  And I was too ashamed
about the dreams to go to a Christian psychiatrist.  It was only after a
third dream that I decided to tell Harry, and see what he had to say."

"Was the third dream the ogre of a headmaster, or a delectable Indian lad?"

"Neither.  It was centred on a young man who I had met the day before in
the library.  It was just as vivid, and explicit.  I still hesitated in
talking about it to Harry.  He seems to be troubled in some way.  Over the
last couple of months I had noticed that there appeared to be something
wrong for him.  I wondered if it was some parish problem, but I think he
would have discussed that with me.  Or if it was something to do with his
own faith.  But I thought he would discuss that sort of thing with his
spiritual director."

"Couldn't you have discussed your problem with your spiritual director?"

"I didn't have one.  I was in the more Protestant part of the Church of
England.  Spiritual Directors and Father Confessors were regarded with
great suspicion as belonging to the Catholic wing of the Church, and
therefore well on the way to Rome."

"But you did tell Harry?"

"Yes.  Eventually. We had met for our usual pub lunch and then gone off to
the place where we usually walked along the canal tow path.  We had just
parked our cars, when the heavens opened and the rain poured down.  He
joined me in my car. `I hope you're not in a hurry,' I said, `I want to
talk something over with you.'  `Strange,' said Harry, `I want to talk
something over with you too,' replied Harry.  `What I am going to tell you
must be regarded as totally confidential,' I said.  `Seal of the
Confessional, Archie,' said Harry.  We laughed briefly at his use of
Catholic terminology.  `I've been having some strange dreams, and they are
worrying me.'  `Dreams about not being ready for a service, not able to
find your place at a funeral, or the register at a wedding?'  `No.  I do
have those professional dreams, but I know them for what they are.  The
dreams I have been having are very sexual!'  He turned to look at me.  `Oh!
In what way?'  With rather a shamed face I told him about my first two
dreams.  He listened attentively and in silence.  When I'd finished he
turned to me again.  `May I ask you a very personal question, Archie?'  I
knew what was coming.  `Of course,' I replied.  `Do those dreams tie up
with anything you have done in your past, before you were married.'  I
nodded, and very quietly said `Yes.  I was engaged in a lot of homosexual
activity while I was at school.  It only stopped when I got to Cambridge
and was converted.'  `You're not the only one, you know,' said Harry.  `You
too, Harry?'  `Yes, me too.  The last three years at school.  Why did you
give it up?'  `Variety of reasons, I think.  As a Christian I thought it
was totally wrong.  It was something which was forbidden and I must not
do. I also thought it was something I needed to grow out of.  I think the
whole environment at Queens' and even more when I was at Oxford was
focussed on girls, all the talk seemed to be about girls, then it was guys
getting engaged and married as soon as they could.'  There was a short
silence between us.

"Harry broke it, `Don't you think that these dreams might be revealing the
truth about you?'  `In what way?' I asked.  `That really, Archie, you're
homosexual?'  `That's something I've been trying to avoid considering.
That would be too awful to contemplate,' I said.  `The truth about
ourselves is often the hardest truth to take on board.'  `The consequences
are too terrible.  Here am I a priest in the Church of England.  With a
wife and two daughters.  If I ever expressed my sexuality I could loose my
job and my family.  I don't think Pen would understand it in a month of
Sundays.  She takes a very strict line on everything, but especially when
it comes to sex.'  `There are a lot of gay priests, Archie.'  `Are there?'
`Yes, they may be more out of the closet at my high Church end of the
candlestick.  But there must be Evangelicals who are gay, but they keep it
all firmly under wraps.'  `But I'm married with kids.'  `So what?  So am I.
And there are others like us,' said Harry.  `I'm sorry, Harry.  I've been
too taken up with myself.  You wanted to talk over something, and we've
just talked about me.'

"Harry smiled.  `I wanted to talk about much the same sort of thing.  For
me its not dreams, but something that has happened several times at night.
You know how you can become half awake in the middle of the night, and
you're horny and wanting sex.  Well, several times when that has happened
to me I've put my hand over to feel Sue, and I have been hoping to find
male gear, and have been disappointed to find nothing there.  Or let's say,
not a good handful of what I wanted.'  `And you're thinking that you too
may be basically gay?' I said, `It seems we're both a couple of mixed up
kids.'  We both gave a slight laugh, but it was too serious matter for
humour.  We talked on for a while, and then I looked at the clock on the
dashboard and saw that it was 3.00pm.  `Harry, I must be going very soon,
I've got to pick up the girls from school.'  The rain had stopped and the
sun was shining.  We both got out of the car, Harry to go to his, and
myself to stretch my legs.  He came round the car and put his arm round my
shoulders.  `You're not alone.  You're not the only one.  See you.'  He
gave me a slight squeeze and got in his car."

"You mention that putting of his arm round you.  Was that the first time
he'd done anything like that?"

"Yes, I think that was the first time.  We used to shake hands when we met.
All very formal and correct.  We were after all Englishmen!"

We laughed.

Archie continued.  "We continued to meet, same pub, often the same walk
when it was fine along by the canal.  We often walked for a mile or so.  It
was the usual tow path, sometimes in a cutting, and at other times on an
embankment.  It was through fields, and at one place there was a small
wood.  On a weekday the canal was quiet, just the occasional cyclist, or
narrow boat chugging along.  But Harry and I the relationship had changed.
It had profoundly deepened.  We were now sharing in a far more personal
way.  Over the next few meetings we shared a lot of our stories.  I had the
longer experience of gay sex, Harry's had been just his last three years at
school, and only with two other friends.  He was amazed at all I'd been up
to."

"How did you feel about it, telling all your story to Harry?"

Archie was silent for a while.  "At one level it was a sort of
confession. It was good to express it all, and to have a totally
un-judgmental listener.  I was still puzzled about what was going on in
myself with these dreams.  There was still an element of guilt hanging
around.  I don't think that is something that someone with my religious
background and experience is ever totally without, especially when it comes
to sex."

"Did you have any more dreams?"

"Yes.  They seemed to occur every two months or so.  They were always
extremely vivid, and I never had any difficulty in recalling them, unlike
the way it is with most dreams for me.  As I look back over that time now,
I realise that something else was happening to me.  I had eased the lid on
my gay sexuality.  I was looking at it again, for the first time since that
first term at Cambridge over ten years before.  I now think that those
dreams were my subconscious forcing the truth about myself to the surface.
The only way it could do so was through those dreams.  But when I started
talking to Harry it was like letting the whole area come back into my
consciousness.  The more I did this the greater the inner turmoil.  If I
was gay what were the implications for my marriage, and my ministry?  Harry
was facing the same questions.  There were times when I tried to put the
screws on it all again.  I thought that was the Christian way.  I would
succeed for a short while, and then a dream or something like an article,
or even a picture, in a paper or magazine would set it all aflame again."

"How did your relationship with Harry go?  Still just the occasional arm
round each other?" I asked.

"It progressed very slowly.  We used to give each other a brief bear hug
when we parted, that is, if no one was around!"

We laughed.

"Then one day we were sitting in the car talking, with the rain pouring
down.  We were talking about ourselves, about our friendship and how it had
grown and developed.  We were looking at each other.  It was like one of
those Hollywood films. There was a slow movement of our heads towards each
other and we kissed.  It's better on the screen than put into words!  It
was a brief kiss, we pulled apart with a surprised look on our faces.  Then
we came together again, only this time it was a longer kiss.  It was still
a lip kiss, no tongues or open mouths that time.  `That's the first kiss
with a man for seventeen years, since I kissed Andre, in France.'  `That's
too long a time, if you're gay,' said Harry.  We kissed again.  Then we
just sat there looking at each other.  There were now many unspoken
thoughts between us.  What had we done?  Where was all this going to lead?
Were we both wanting the same things.  `Well,' said Harry, `I reckon our
relationship has just entered another gear.'  `Aye' I replied, `And where
do we go from here?'  `I know what I want,' said Harry, `but there is a
part of me saying, hold on a moment mate, think.'  `Yes, I think we both
need to look before we leap!'  We grinned at each other, and then my mutual
movement gave each other a further kiss.  We got out of the car, gave each
other a hug and parted."

"I presume Pen did not know about all this?"

"Certainly not.  Fortunately she never met Harry.  She knew there was this
Anglo-Catholic priest from the next diocese who I used to meet.  But I had
begun to get a little secretive, I did not always tell her that I had been
for a pub lunch with Harry.  She was more suspicious of my meeting and
making friends with a priest with a different spirituality and beliefs.
She thought Harry might corrupt me and lead me off in a Romeward direction.

"The next time we met, just a week later, it was a beautiful sunny day, so
we walked along the canal tow path.  I suppose we sauntered along for about
a mile.  We seemed to be avoiding talking about what had happened on our
last meeting.  I think we were discussing episcopal appointments, always a
subject of absorbing interest among clergy.  When we were nearly back at
the cars, Harry brought the subject up.  `There was a part of me that was
rather hoping that it would rain today.  So that we would have to sit in
the car, and perhaps carry on from where we left off last time.'  I looked
at my watch.  `I don't need to hurry off.'  I got in my car, and opened the
catch on the passenger side, and Harry climbed in.  Immediately we put our
arms round each other, and kissed.  This time the kiss was more passionate.
I wanted to make a further move, but held back.  Later Harry told me he was
wanting the same, but was reluctant to push things too far too fast.  We
pulled apart.  `This friendship of ours is meaning more and more to me,
Harry, my friend.'  `Same here.  We seem to be entering some new uncharted
waters.  And I am excited and glad.'  We kissed, and then the time had come
for us to part.

"Over the next week I thought a lot about Harry.  I knew that I what I
wanted with Harry, and thought he was wanting the same.  But still there
was the feeling of guilt.  There was worry about what the consequences
might be.  I worked very hard, even tried to do some work on Hebrew that I
was preparing for another article.  It was an attempt to stop me wondering
what it would be like to have sex with Harry.  But study only partially
helped.

"It was ten days before we could meet again.  It was another sunny day,
there was a walk along by the canal.  We walked a little faster that time,
I think we were both thinking, get back sooner, so having longer in the
car.  It was fortunate that it was a secluded spot where we parked the
cars.  No one could come up behind us, and we could easily watch the canal
bank.  We could see anyone walking, or cycling along, very easily.  We got
in the car, and immediately kissed.  Then I felt Harry's hand on my knee.
This is it, I thought. I put my hand on top of his, and moved it up my leg
to my crotch.  His fingers felt my hardening cock.  `That feels good,' he
said.  Then he took my hand and placed it on his cock, which was very hard.
For a while we kissed and held each other's cock.  There was no attempt to
go any further.  Harry then whispered in my ear, `I want to see you naked,
I want us to hold each other with nothing between us.  I want to make love
to you, Archie.'  `That's what I want too,' I replied, `Unfortunately this
is not the place.'  We discussed various possibilities, a hotel, or motel.
But we were both hesitant.  We were both afraid of running into someone who
knew one of us.  One of the troubles of being a priest is that you are
known by a large number of people, not just the church goers, but you may
be recognised by someone from all the baptisms, weddings and funerals that
you have taken."

"Did you think of somewhere?"

"Yes, but not straight away."

"Did you go any further that day in the car?"

"No.  We met again a week later.  It was the usual pub lunch, and then off
in the cars to the canal, about half a mile away.  We parked the cars and
began to walk along the tow path together.  We walked close. Harry grabbed
my hand and held it.  `I have been thinking a lot about us,' he said, `I
keep imagining the two of us in various convenient scenarios.'  I laughed,
`Yes, somewhere private, warm and comfortable.'  `That would be perfection,
Archie,' said Harry.  We walked on until we came to the wood.  I think the
thought must have occurred to both of us at the same time.  We stopped and
looked at each other.  `Two minds but a single thought?' I asked.  Harry
nodded, and we went into the wood.  Now this wood needs to be described
because there are woods and woods.  There are woods where you can see all
the tree trunks, but there are others that have a lot of undergrowth.  This
wood was more of a scrubby spinney.  It was not very big, but it was quite
dense.  I don't think people often went into it.  We had to force our way
through the undergrowth.

"We eventually came to a small clearing.  It was under the branches of a
large oak tree.  We stopped as if by a mutually given signal.  We looked at
each other.  I think we both realised we were about to cross some sexual
Rubicon.  Harry made the first move.  He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me
to him.  We kissed, this time with real passion.  Our mouths opened and our
tongues made contact.  It was a wonderful moment.  Eventually we parted.  I
made the next move.  I reached down to feel his cock.  It was hard in his
trousers.  Looking in his eyes, I felt for his zip and pulled that down.
Then my hand reached in, and naturally encountered his pants.  I found the
hole and wormed my hand through and felt the wonderful texture of the male
sexual organ.  It was the first cock, apart of course from my own, that I
had touched since I had held Andre's fourteen long years before.  Holding
his cock in my hand I pulled it out into the open.  It was a long cock,
certainly longer than mine.  Though it was fully erect I could see that he
was uncircumcised.  If I remember correctly I muttered something like, `Its
beautiful.'  We kissed again, but his hand was reaching for me.  My zip was
undone.  I felt his warm hand grasp my cock, and then get it out into the
open.  Harry looked at it.  `My! You've got a mighty tool.  I could spend
hours just enjoying your cock.  Looking at it, feeling it, kissing it,
sucking it, and also being fucked by it.'  We stood there holding each
other's member.  Then still holding we started kissing.  `I think they
ought to meet each other don't you,' said Harry.  We both took hold of our
own cocks, and put the heads together, just like a couple of school boys.
Then we pressed against each other, but there was more contact with
trousers than with each others cocks.  `I think we need to loosen some of
our attire.'  Now the trouble was that there was no way in which we could
sit or lie down.  The ground was decidedly damp.  I didn't dare kneel down
to suck his cock as I knew I would get a damp dirty patch on my knees.  We
undid our belts, lowered our trousers and pants and pulled up our shirts.
I know that I felt very much like a school boy exploring for the first time
the intricacies of sex.  Harry later said that he felt exactly the same.
Anyway, the loosening of our clothes meant that we could get much more
bodily contact.  Though the conditions were far from ideal, it all felt
good.  `I want to fuck you,' said Harry, `and I have come prepared.'  He
reached into a pocket and showed me a small jar of Vaseline.  `I'd like you
to fuck me,' I said.  We both prepared ourselves.  We both had to be
careful not to let any of the Vaseline get on our clothes where it would
have produced a stain, which might have taken some explaining.

"I moved so I could lean against the trunk of the oak tree.  I stuck my bum
out.  I felt the heat radiating off him as he came close to me.  Then he
with his hands he guided his cock.  He paused for a moment, just on the
portals of my anus.  I was filled with desire for him.  Memories of that
first time with Bobby in the old pig sty at Silverhanger came back into my
mind, and that the last cock to stand at that door knocking was Andre's.
Harry bent forward and kissed my neck, and then whispered in my ear, `Are
you ready?'  I nodded, and began to feel his long strong penis make its way
in.  He was so slow and gentle.  I opened up to him as if there had been no
long years between.  Perhaps once you have learnt how to relax you never
loose the skill, rather like learning to ride a bike.  He was so slow, I
eventually felt his balls against me.  But it was not to last long.  He
stiffened, his cock did a final swelling, and I felt his love cream pulse
out in profusion into me.  `Sorry,' he said, `sorry I could not hold it
back.'  `That was wonderful, Harry,' I replied, `I'm sure there'll be other
times.  He stayed within in me, and I felt his cock go limp and eventually
it came out of me.  I turned and kissed him.  `Thank you, Harry.  Can I now
complete our consummation by fucking you?' I said.  `Yes, I'd like that,'
said Harry.  We changed positions and prepared ourselves.  `Be careful,'
said Harry, `You've got a mighty big girth!'  `Say if it is too much for
you, Harry.'  I did not go in easily.  It took two or three attempts with
my cock slipping up or down just when I thought I was getting in.  I got
past the guard room, and slowly pushed my penis into him.  He groaned with
pleasure.  I got fully in, and held it there.  I was able to thrust at him
quite a lot before I felt the familiar sensation of life mounting within
me.  My cock did its final hardening, and I shot a full load deep into him.
We stood there panting.  Slowly we got our breath back, and my cock in its
turn slipped out.  We cleaned ourselves up, and put to right our clothes.
We kissed again, and made our way out of the wood.

"How did you feel about it?' I asked.

Archie stopped walking and turned to face me.  "I felt as though I had come
home.  I had rediscovered my true self.  Man sex was what was completely
natural to me.  Straight sex was the unnatural thing for me to indulge in."

"No guilt?" I asked.

"Guilt soon surfaced.  As I have said, you don't have a conservative
evangelical background, or perhaps you would understand it better if I
said, a fundamentalist background, and not feel guilt when it comes to sex.
I sometimes thought that the proponents of that position thought you should
feel a little bit guilty about sex with your wife, especially if you
enjoyed it.  I am being more than a little naughty in saying that.  Yes,
there was guilt, but there was also relief, and joy."

"What effect had this on your relationship with your wife, Pen?"

"For sometime the sexual thing had been getting a lot less between us.  We
were both working very hard.  The girls kept us busy, school runs to be
organised, meals to be got.  Yes, we had a lot of help, we could afford
that.  But we were often tired, and it was sleep the moment our heads hit
the pillow.  Also Pen was often working shifts, and that in any way plays
havoc with any love life.  I think I became much more secretive, telling
her only rarely that I had met Harry.  We were beginning to go separate
ways."

"Did you love Harry?" I asked.

"I liked him. Liked him a lot.  But I did not love him in the way that I
later loved, and still love Kevin.  We were good friends.  Yes, I think -
like - is the word.  A real liking, but not deep loving."

"What about your strict fundamentalist theological position?  Surely that
had something to say?"

Archie gave a slight laugh.  "I think if the truth be told I was, sort of,
schizophrenic over it.  At that stage I was trying to keep my theological
position and my sexuality in separate water-tight compartments.  My
theological position only came to alter sometime later.  I was enjoying the
sex with Harry.  I know this seems ridiculous, but because he was a priest
like me, and we were in the same boat, and no other man was involved with
either of us, it did not seem so bad.  Yes, I struggled at times to keep
the feeling of guilt under control.  It is amazing how we deal with
ourselves. We so easily deceive ourselves.  Harry and I sometimes talked
that side of things over.  Even today when I think I have got my position
sorted out, the thought comes to me, have I really?  May I not be wrong?
May I not still be deceiving myself?  I know that those who used to be my
theological friends and associates would say that I was."

We walked on in silence for a while.  We now could look down into
Gunnerside Gill, and see the remains of the old lead workings that were
many years ago a hive of activity, but were now stretches of broken rocks
with the occasional ruined building surrounded by bracken and grass.

I broke the silence.  "I suppose you visited that oak tree many times?"

"As often as we could.  That old oak tree saw a lot.  There were problems,
it all had to be done standing up.  We thought about bringing something
that we could lie on, some sort of waterproof.  But even under the oak tree
anything we put on the ground would be taken up damp and filthy with mud,
old leaves and wood mould.  There were other occasions when it rained , and
we had to sit in the car.  We didn't dare do too much, though we could get
our cocks out and give each other a good blow job.  But it was a sideways
act, and not the most comfortable.  Then of course, we began to approach
winter.  It was getting colder, and the surroundings even wetter."

"Both getting cold bums!" I suggested.

"Cold bum or a cold cock, depending on whether you were giving or
receiving.  Eventually, I decided that there were occasions when it would
be safe at my house.  There were mortice locks, so the front and back doors
could be locked, and if the keys were left in the lock no one could get in
from outside.  I put some things, papers and so on, up in one of the spare
bedrooms.  So if we were disturbed it would just be a matter of getting
dressed quickly, and we had an excuse for being there.  Oh, I'd got it all
worked out.  So that is what we did.  It was only one week in three when
Pen's shift was right, that we could meet there.  But it was wonderful.
After all the difficulties of under the old oak tree, we could strip off,
feel warm and safe, lie down, and do what we liked.  The spare bedroom was
at the back of the house, and looked out on a lot of trees. It was not
overlooked in any way.  Didn't even need to pull the curtains.  sometimes I
did, sometimes I didn't.  So through those winter months, we continued to
meet.  Often at the pub, with a sit in the car afterwards but about one
week in three at my place."

"Did Pen suspect anything?"

"I don't think so.  She found her work at the hospital very absorbing.
Then there were the girls, they were growing up fast.  Pen also liked to do
as much as she could in the parish.  There was no way she could be a
typical vicar's wife, seeing to the flower rota, and making cakes for bring
and buys. She ran a midweek Bible Study Group among other things.  My
affair with Harry had its effect.  We had less and less sex.  I think Pen
was quite happy about that.  Lent, Holy Week and Easter came and went.
Immediately after Easter we all fled down to the cottage in Devon for a
break.  The weather was good, several warm sunny days.  We even had a
couple of days on the beach.

"We got back the day before the school summer term started.  Life got back
to normal.  It was Tuesday 22nd April 1982 that Harry and I were able to
meet, and do it proper!"

We laughed.

"Our usual drill was to go straight upstairs and have fun, and then we
would go down and have a bite to eat and a cup of coffee before going our
separate ways.  On that day our fun was to be spiced.  When Harry arrived,
I did the usual checking that the doors were locked and we went straight
upstairs.  We exchanged the usual kisses and hugs.  There were the usual
expressions of how long it had been, and how much we were looking forward
to getting together.  We broke apart, and we undressed.  Totally naked we
looked at each other.  `Good to see you properly,' said Harry.  `Every part
of you,' I replied, and knelt in front of him taking his hardening cock
into my mouth.  There were moans of pleasure from Harry.  I gave good oral
attention to his cock and balls and all around.  Before I aroused him too
much he pulled me to my feet, and we kissed pressing our cocks together.
We moved on to the bed.  First of all we lay side by side, holding and
stroking.  We were totally relaxed, fully enjoying each other.  We both
enjoyed as much foreplay as possible.  It was something that was not so
easy under the oak tree with all its limitations.  We were rolled around,
sometimes Harry was on top, sometimes me.  There was some 69ing.  We knew
that it was all preliminary to a consummating enjoyment of each other.

"We must have been frolicking around together for some time, when Harry's
face froze in horror, as he looked at the window.  There at the window was
the window cleaner.  George Formby used to sing a song entitled When I'm
cleaning windows.  This window cleaner had certainly had a eyeful.  He was
a young West Indian.  There he was, on his ladder, looking in, eyes like
organ stops and his hand rubbing a huge cock that was outlined in his
jeans.  As Harry and I looked at him in horror, the guy laughed.  He said
something, but we could not hear through the window.  I went and pulled
down the sash, so we could hear.  I felt embarrassed, the vicar in the nude
walking to talk to the young window cleaner.  `Can I join you, mates.
Haven't had a good threesome for years.'  I looked at Harry, who was lying
back showing all, though his cock had gone decidedly limp.  `Why not?  He's
seen everything, it'd make him an accomplice.'  `Okay,' I said to the
window cleaner, `I'll come down and let you in.'  I pulled my trousers on,
and in bare feet made may way down stairs.  I unlocked the door and the
cleaner slipped in.  `How long were you watching?' I asked.  `Long enough
to get a raging hard on.  Another couple of minutes and I'd have shot my
load into my jeans.  Cor, you guys were a treat to watch.  Better than any
porno film that I've seen.  My name's Zach,' he said, `Short for
Zachariah!'  At least he's got a Biblical name, I thought.  `Mine's Archie'
I replied.

Archie and I laughed.

I led the way upstairs and into the bedroom.  Harry was still there lying
back on the bed.  Zach walked over to the bed and held out his hand to
shake Harry's.  "My name is Zach, short for Zachariah,' he said again.
They shook hands.  Zach did it as though it was a perfect normal thing to
do.  All was done so formally and correctly, yet the one was a fully
dressed West Indian lad, and Harry, a stark naked priest.  Zach turned, and
began to undress.  He was a big man.  He was a good six foot, with a
perfectly proportioned body.  Harry and I watched in open mouthed amazement
as Zach began to strip off.  He pulled his shirt off , and revealed that he
had glorious smooth brown skin.  There was not a trace of hair, except in
his arm pits.  Then he took off his shoes and socks, quickly followed by
his trousers.  He stood for a moment, his tight white pants almost shining
against his brown skin, but revealing a huge sexual organ held closely
against his stomach.  He grinned at us both, and then put his thumbs in the
waist band, and pulled them down and off.  Zach stood there in his glorious
nakedness.  Zach's prick was no yet fully hard, but it was huge.  A huge
trunk of uncut brown flesh.  He looked at us both grinning, and stepped
over to the bed, and bent over and planted a kiss firmly on Harry's lips.
I got a glimpse of his smooth brown buttocks, and the inviting cleft
between. Then he stood up, and walked over to me, his huge cock swinging
from side to side, he put his arms round me, and gave me a passionate kiss.
In an instant I was fully erect again.  We pressed into each other, cocks
touching, hands roaming, lips apart and tongues reaching.  Zach seemed to
take charge.  He pulled me over to the bed to join Harry.  He, too, was now
fully hard again, just watching Zach and myself had stiffened him.

"On the bed again, the three of us enjoyed each other for quite a while.
`Do you guys do this often? ` asked Zach.  `Bout once every three weeks,' I
replied.  `I'll give you my number, let me know whenever, and I'll join you
both.  Do yer windows for free,' he said.  `Just getting my hand on this,'
I said, running my hand over his smooth buttocks and feeling his cock, `is
more than good enough.'  His skin felt like satin.  Not only was its colour
wonderful, its texture was a total turn on.  `I'd like a cock up me bum,
and a mouth on me cock,' said Zach.  `I think that's an order we could
obey,' said Harry, then adding hastily, `with one condition.'  `Wot's
that?' asked Zach with some anxiety showing in his voice.  `That you join
us again,' said Harry. `Any time,' said Zach with relief.  We all laughed.

"We got into position.  Zach got into a doggie position, his arse
invitingly in the air.  Harry swung himself round, and got under Zach so
the huge cock was coming down into his mouth.  I soon was hearing slurping
sounds as Harry got to work.  There were sounds of appreciation from Zach.
I prepared myself liberally with the lubricant Harry and I had close at
hand, covering with enough for me, and hopefully enough for Zach at the
same time.  I came up behind Zach, and looked at those full and inviting
cheeks, with the cleft to pleasure between.  I put a hand on each mound and
pulled them gently apart, and positioned my tool for its entry.  To my
delight even my cock slid in without any problem.  I reckoned I was not the
first thick one in there.  `Cor, this's the best days winda cleaning I've
ever done.  Two great guys working on me.  What `ave I done to deserve
this?'  `And of all the window cleaners to come playing the peeping Tom,
one who likes man sex,' added Harry.  Zach had managed to lean forward on
one hand, and with the other hand he was wanking off Harry's cock.  We took
it all slowly and carefully.  None of us wanted to be the first to climax.
We seemed to sense each other perfectly, ceasing time and time again before
reaching the point of no return.  `Do you live alone, Zach?' I asked,
wondering if there was the possibility of a safe house with him.  `Yea.
Got a small flat, in Aston,' answered Zach.  `Any chance of getting
together at your place?' I asked, as I thrust my cock in and out of his
arse.  `Yea, good idea, why not?'  `Sounds a great idea,' said Harry from
below, breaking off his oral activities.  So we continued working steadily
with an unspoken agreement to try and climax as near together as possible.
Then suddenly there was a scream.  Pen stood in the doorway having
hysterics."

Footnotes:

1.  The Lancet is a British medical journal.

2.  . O levels.  In the 1960s there were two levels of state examinations.
They were taken by pupils at Independent or Public Schools as well as by
those in the State system.  O [Ordinary] levels were taken in a number of
subjects at 15/16.  A [Advanced] were taken two years later in three or
four subjects.

3.  Harley Street is the street in London where many top medical men have
their private consulting rooms.

4.  Tripos.  The name given to the Cambridge B.A. Bachelor of Arts degree.
So named because of the three legged stool on which the examinee sat when
being questioned by the examiners centuries ago.

5.  Comprehensive education.  A form of education widely introduced in the
state system in the 1960s and 70s which replaced schools where pupils were
admitted on the result of an exam taken at the age of 11, the so called
11plus.  This created schools where children of mixed ability were educated
in one, often large, school.  Comprehensives were very looked down on my
many, especially in the private sector - the so called Public Schools.
Interestingly, the Public Schools used to admit pupils of mixed ability,
[except of course the ability to pay the fees] and so were pioneers and
examples of good comprehensive education.

6.  Service of Institution and Induction.  This is the service in the
Church of England by which a priest is made the vicar of a parish.  He or
she is instituted into the spirituality's of the benefice by the bishop.
This is the cure or care of souls in the area of the parish.  The induction
part of the service is conducted by the Archdeacon, and is into
corporalities of the parish, the care of the church building, occupation of
the vicarage, and receiving of a stipend [this used to be into the right to
receive the tithes].  In this part of the service the Archdeacon places the
new vicar's hand on the key of the church door, often large and old.  The
new vicar rings the church bell, the number of times is believed
superstitiously to show how many years he will be vicar.  And the
Archdeacon places the new vicar in his stall or seat in the church.

This section is probably more English than even the previous one.  If you
have any questions do ask.  jeffyrks@hotmail.com

I very grateful to one correspondent who corrected my Latin in a Latin tag
I introduced in an earlier section. The exact quotation from Galen should
read, Post coitum animal triste est - after sex the animal is sad.  The
other day the following letter appeared in the correspondence columns of
the Guardian.  Shop-sign spotting [Letter, February 16] was pursued at a
somewhat higher intellectual level in Victorian times.  The novelist George
Meredith and his friends were delighted to notice that the name of a
respected gents' outfitter, Mann, Rogers and Greaves, was a perfect
translation of Galen's "post coitum animal triste est."  Tony Skull,
Ilkley, West Yorkshire.