This is a story about man on man sex. If this offends you please do not read further. Otherwise please enjoy this story which is the fourth chapter of a longer piece outlining how I learnt about gay sex whilst an undergraduate in the 1970s. I'd be very interested to receive your feedback and suggestions for future chapters. My email is zlatyblbec@yahoo.com

If you enjoy this story you may enjoy the other offering I have on Nifty – The Widowers Club which is in the `Adult Friends' section.

As our orgasmic state receded we lay there talking about everyday things. We'd still touch each other from time to time, gently playing with one another's cocks, but in the nonchalant, unconscious way that little boys do. Because it feels nice, rather than because it's overtly sexual.

"Early start in the morning," said Warren. "I've set the alarm for half past six."

I was a student – I couldn't believe that I was going to get up that early on a Sunday morning. But I didn't mind, because Warren was going to take me to the nude swimming session and I was so looking forward to my first experience of skinny dipping.

o-O-o

I drifted into that beautiful post-orgasmic sleep quite quickly despite the fact that it was probably well before nine o'clock.

I wouldn't say that my sleep was restless, but I did regain consciousness several times during the night. I remember the delight of floating back to some level of hazy awareness and feeling Warren's body next to me in his double bed. These days no one I know actually has a classic double bed – the old four foot six wide one. As a minimum it's now a Queen, or a King. Or more often a Superking. When I think back to my nights at Warren's I get nostalgic for the closeness that two men sharing less than five feet of bed brings. Coming back to a level of realisation and feeling the warmth and gentle breathing of your partner is something special.

We both clearly moved a lot during the night – once I woke up to find myself facing away from Warren with him spooning tightly behind me, his soft cock nestled between the cleft of my backside. His arm was over my body and his hand between my legs and cupped around my cock. That couldn't have been long after we'd nodded off because I could feel a stickiness on the top of my buttocks and lower back where his messy stomach and pubic region had rubbed against me. Another time I woke to find our positions had reversed, and it was me whose prick was resting in the groove of Warren's bum. This time I woke erect and as soon as I dropped out of my slumber and became aware of where I was I became even stiffer. I couldn't resist reaching over to give Warren a feel. He was soft, but I played gently with his dick nonetheless, running my fingers around the groove between the head of his penis and the shaft and noting that I could still feel the last remains of our emissions that had not yet dried completely. I moved the flat of my palm around his lower tummy and felt the stickiness of our drying cum, and continued to get harder. My face was right against his back and I inhaled deeply to fill my lungs with his heady musk, rubbing my nose gently around his shoulder blade. Then I licked him, very softly, and tasted for the first time the marvellous saltiness of dried post-sex sweat.

I was like a kid let loose in a sweet shop! For years I'd fantasied about sharing a bed with another gay man, and exploring his body, and now it was really happening. And from the conversations I'd had with Warren I sensed he wouldn't mind me exploring him in this way even though he was asleep. I moved my palm up to his nipple and began to draw circles around it with my fingertip, and gave his back a gentle salty kiss. I felt myself becoming more and more turned on.

Warren's nipple began to harden. "I wondered whether you'd come back for seconds." As he spoke I felt the vibrations of Warren's deep voice resonating through his back and into my body.

I licked his back again and then pulled him a bit tighter towards me.

He pushed back onto me. "Someone's turned on again, I can feel."

"I can't believe this, Warren," I said. My whole being was full of emotion – at that moment I felt so much love for that man. There was a lot of lust, I know. I was still eighteen with masses of testosterone surging around my body. But the way in which Warren and I had ended up here went far beyond that. I rolled onto my back, and Warren followed suit. I turned towards him and in the light of the moon which was streaming through the window I could see his face clearly, smiling at me.

"It might have been a long while since I was your age," he said, "but I know exactly what you're feeling." He leaned towards me and kissed me.

"I never thought it would be like this." I stared up at the ceiling as I wondered how to put it. I'd never in a million years imagined myself in the bed of someone approaching seventy and being so content and turned on by it. "Did you have someone? You know, when you were younger?"

Warren gave a little laugh. "We've lived very different lives, David. And the circumstances we find ourselves in control the way things eventually turn out."

For a few moments there was silence as I contemplated what he'd said, wondering what was behind the words.

"I went to boarding school, for example. Around the time of the first war." He turned towards me and smiled. "The cliches are true. Boarding schools are rife with gay sex." He turned away and looked up at the ceiling as if reminiscing. "Some of it pleasant, some of it quite brutal. Most of it generally just matter-of-fact. So my first experiences were fumbles in the dorm after lights out in my earliest years at school. None of us really knew what we were doing, of course. We just understood two things – that generally it felt quite nice, and that we'd be thrashed mercilessly if the masters caught us at it." He laughed. "For some reason we thought we were the ones who'd discovered this, and that no one else had ever got up to what we were doing!"

"Did you ever get caught?"

"No. I was lucky, I suppose. Those who did just happened to be doing stuff in the wrong place at the wrong time." He gave a snort which was clearly disapproving. "I remember a couple of my mates being found in flagrante delicto, as they say. Couldn't have been any more than eleven or twelve. God, they both got one hell of a beating. Their arses were black and blue for well over a week." He shook his head. "We were all used to canings – it was the way that it was in those days – but that was well over the top. If it'd happened at my school that particular master would've been down the road pronto."

He turned to face me. "That's why I said earlier it's important to accept who you are and what you are. Looking back I reckon that the master was gay himself, but was ashamed of it and trying very hard to supress the fact. Hence whenever he came across any boys indulging themselves he punished them so severely no one would suspect his own preferences." Another shake of the head. "Such a shame – for all concerned, including him."

Warren turned onto his side and began rubbing his flat palm up and down my belly. The spunk from our earlier exertions had dried, but could still be felt as a residue on my body.

"And then, as we got older and puberty kicked in, the urges got stronger for a lot of the lads. Let's say, not every act that was engaged in involved two willing participants."

I looked at him. I don't know whether he saw my inquiring frown in the moonlight.

"Often an older, or bigger, or stronger, boy would impose himself on one of the weaker ones."

"Did that happen to you?"

"No!" Warren was categorical. He gave a little laugh. "No one has ever accused me of being one of the weak ones! And you only had to push back a little. Any real fuss would've been picked up by the masters, and everyone knew what the consequences of that were, so the bullies would back off very quickly and go in search of easier prey."

He felt down to my prick which had softened quite a lot. "I'm sorry – all that talk about unpleasant stuff seems to have had a detrimental effect on you." He started to caress my dick, feeling up and down the shaft very lightly, then extending to the underside of my balls. It didn't take me long to start to respond.

"Most of my proper sexual education came from my uncle," he said. "My dad's brother. He was the only family I had in England, so I used to go and stay with him during the school holidays." He kissed me. "You remember what I told you about `confirmed bachelors'? Well, he was definitely a `confirmed bachelor'!"

By now my dick was rock hard and I was moving my crotch gently in motion with Warren's hand on it. He increased his grip around the shaft and stopped moving up and down, letting me stimulate myself my thrusting in and out of his hand.

"I don't think I'm going to manage to cum again tonight," he said, "but I think that you're going to have difficulty getting back off to sleep unless you do." He pulled the bedclothes back, moved his head down to my middle and took my prick into his mouth.

The next few minutes I was treated to the exquisite experience of being sucked by an expert in the art. He pulled my shaft skin back as far as it would go so that the head of my cock was completely uncovered then, with a mouthful of saliva he'd manufactured he engulfed the glans and the upper part of the shaft. What followed was a combination of his tongue licking around the knob and his cheeks enveloping it as his head moved up and down. He kept one hand on my balls, applying gentle pressure to keep the skin of my penis and hence my foreskin back from the tip, and with his other hand he explored around my body, teasing my nipples to an erotic hardness and searching out the last remaining residues from our earlier orgasms – mostly inside my belly button.

As Warren sucked I tried to imagine what he would've looked like at my age. I bet he was a stunner! And I invented an image of him in the same situation as I was now, but with his uncle introducing him to the world of man on man sex. The mental images combined with the very real stimulation I was getting from Warren meant that it wasn't long before I felt the tell-tale signs in the pit of my stomach which told me that ejaculation wasn't far away. Warren seemed to sense this too, and instinctively knew what to do to bring me to climax. He had the knack of seemingly being able to generate oceans of saliva at will, and now his mouth became full of this ideal lubricant – the perfect viscosity and the perfect temperature – which he continued to work into my dick.

My breathing increased, my hips bucked and I let out a loud groan as I shot hard into his mouth. When he felt the first squirt Warren grabbed hold of one of my nipples and squeezed very hard. It hurt, but in a peculiarly pleasant way, and made the feelings of my next couple of spurts even more intense. After those he relaxed his grip, and the remains of my spunk reservoir dribbled out of my cock into his mouth.

As soon as I'd stopped squirting Warren pulled his head backwards and my prick fell from his mouth. Then he moved so that we were face to face, and he kissed me, sharing the cum I'd just deposited into him into my own mouth.

We were locked together for several minutes as we passed spunk and saliva back and forth between us, the taste of my cum diminishing as time went on. Warren dropped his hand down onto my cock and started gently massaging the remains of the spit/semen residue with which it was coated into it. I shuddered a little at the post-orgasmic sensitivity. Eventually as I returned to pretty much full softness he pulled the foreskin back over my glans and wiped his wet hand across my chest.

"Hopefully that'll be as good as a sleeping tablet for you!" Warren whispered. "And much more wholesome!"

He pulled the sheet and blankets back over us and cuddled into me. It wasn't long before I was asleep again.

...

Dawn was just breaking when I sensed Warren get up and leave the bed. It was going to be a splendid spring day, I could tell by looking through the windows at the sky. I heard the sound of Warren peeing, and immediately felt the need to do so myself, so pushed back the bedclothes, slipped off the mattress and joined him in the bathroom.

Warren sensed me entering and looked round. "Oh the joys of youth," he smiled, shaking the last dribbles off his dick and then pointing at my morning boner. "I remember those days, and the gorgeous agony of dying for a piss but not being able to point it at the lavatory without doing contortions!"

He was pretty much summing up how I felt at that moment. Often, to relieve myself without the danger of piss going everywhere, I'd have to squat over the toilet pan without actually sitting down, lean forward so my arse was up in the air and my dick down inside the porcelain. I'd then pull my stiff penis away from my tummy as much as I could and just manage to empty myself without spraying everywhere. But today I was so hard my dick was almost touching my belly. I tried to pull it forward but it would hardly move before it felt really painful.

Warren reached out and grabbed my dick and pulled it forward gently. "Wow!" he said. "That's super hard!" He turned towards the door, then keeping a gentle hold on my stiffy led me down the stairs. We went through into the scullery, then he turned the key in the back door, opened it, and led me out into the garden.

It was already pleasantly warm despite the early hour. I looked around at the high hedges.

"It's ok – I'm not overlooked at all." He led me a few steps down the path and turned me towards his lawn. "You can just let yourself go now," he said.

And I did. Without touching my penis, and with a hand on each hip, I just released whatever instinctive mechanism was holding back the flow and a fountain began to gush forth from my dick. The sensations of the moment were stunning. There was the sensation of relief as my bladder emptied. The feeling of mischief that I was standing outside, erect and totally naked while all Warren's neighbours, just a few yards away, were blissfully unaware. The sensuous kiss of the light breeze on my skin as the flow continued. And the soft caress of Warren's hand on my bum, circling around each buttock, under the cheeks, up the cleft between them. So gentle, so luxurious, so erotic.

"Ok," said Warren, once I'd finished. "We need to be off pretty pronto. Just let's hang the washing out before we go – it'll be dry by the time we get back."

We went back into the scullery, emptied the washing machine into a basket. Warren gave me a peg bag, then we returned to the garden and between us hung the washing on the line. I couldn't help looking around at the garden boundaries, back towards the house, and at Warren going about this everyday task totally naked.

I stretched, delighting in the gentle breeze on my own naked body. It was a new experience for me. I'd been almost naked outdoors many times, of course. In those days we all wore skimpy `Speedo' type swimming costumes, so had often sunbathed in just a pair of these. But without even this tiny piece of clothing everything seemed more intense. I was more conscious of the kiss of the breeze on all parts of my body – my back, my nipples – even though these had been often exposed before.

"Come on, dreamer,' Warren laughed, catching me staring into space as I took in the moment.

We went back into the house and it was only then that I realised I had nothing to wear. Not in the female sense, where a woman might have a whole wardrobe full of clothes, but nothing exactly suitable for the purposes she needs. I had literally nothing other than my jeans, duffle coat and trainers. Everything else was wet and on the line.

Warren smiled, seeing the realisation reaching my face. "Need to borrow some clothes?"

"Might be an idea, unless I can turn up at the nude swim naked!" I laughed.

"Not this one," he said. "There are places we can do that in the summer, but not today." He left the scullery and started back up the stairs. "Come on – let's find you something".

Once inside his bedroom he opened the wardrobe. "You've got trainers and jeans, so you just need underpants and a top, yes?"

"That'd do nicely." A thrill ran through me as I realised I was going to get a pair of his pants to wear. That my dick was going to be nestled where his had been.

Warren opened a draw which ran the whole width of his wardrobe, and I saw it was full of underwear. As expected it was very tidy and organised. Sorted into different types. "On this side they're my everyday stuff," he announced. "Freshly laundered." Then he looked at me and smiled. "And this is the erotic side – NOT freshly laundered. Some mine, some my friends'. Some just worn for a couple of days. Others for longer. Some squirted into once or twice." He smiled. "Or more!" He winked.

He moved aside and I started to look in the drawer. Instinctively I went to the unlaundered side. And began to work through it.

"Don't make it untidy," Warren told me. "And don't take forever because we've got to go. I'll find you a shirt.' He went over to a chest of drawers and began looking.

Less than ten minutes later we were in Warren's car en route to the swimming pool. I'd chosen a pair of brief black underpants, chiefly because I'd noticed a couple of distinctive semen patches on the inside of them which turned me on. Warren had picked for me a very plain white tee shirt which at first sight had seemed quite a prosaic choice. That was until he gave me its provenance – it'd belonged to a young Danish guy he'd met the previous summer when he came to work on a nearby farm, and after their last afternoon of sex they'd swapped clothes before he'd returned to his digs for the last time. The teeshirt also hadn't been laundered and had a faint smell of Danish teenager around the armpits. Warren had said he thought I'd appreciate that, and he'd appreciate a small top up to the aroma which he said was beginning to fade. He also explained where the underpants I was wearing had come from. I'd unwittingly chosen a pair originally owned by one of the men who'd probably be a the nude swim. One of the loads of semen was Warren's, the other belonged to his nudist friend, both deposits made when they'd wanked each other while sunbathing in a forest clearing.

"You see – life can still be interesting in old age," Warren laughed as he recounted his adventures. "So long as you understand there are far more people like yourself than you'd ever imagine!"

"Sounds exciting."

As we drove he told me more about the guy who'd owned the tee shirt I was wearing. "He came over for a couple of months to work on a farm owned by one of my nudist friends. I go over there sometimes to swim in one of his lakes, and early one morning I met Jens skinny dipping." He turned to me and smiled. "We hit it off, as they say, and over the next month we spent a lot of evenings together. The afternoon before he left we were down by the lake together. I fucked him once, he fucked me twice. And we swam naked between episodes. A really delightful couple of hours."

"Fucking – what's it like?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Would I like it?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Some men find the whole idea distasteful. And it can be painful before you get the knack, and some can never get past that point so give up. But more men enjoy it than you'd think. I've been fucking, both active and passive, for the best part of sixty years, and for me it's still the most fulfilling sexual experience. But each to his own."

"Could we?"

"We could," Warren said, but with a hint of caution in his voice.

"When?"

"Let's work our way up to it, eh? There's plenty of time."