Date: Wed, 04 May 2005 18:26:23 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Two Jubilees.... Part 42

This is a story that involves sex between males.  If such a story is
offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,
go and surf elsewhere.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons.  If there is any similarity to any real persons or
events it is entirely coincidental.

The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.

My thanks to John who has read this through and made a number of
corrections and suggestions.  Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling
or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.

Thank you to those who have commented on my stories.  If you want to
comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com.  I aim to
reply to all messages.


Two Jubilees and One Spitfire.  Part 42.

Resume:-

Part 42.  As Time goes by. 1982-1997

The next fifteen years saw no great changes in Trevor Russell's life.  He
worked at Reading University until he was nearly sixty, retiring in the
summer of 1992.  He enjoyed all aspects of his work.  If asked what he
liked most, he would probably have said, after some thought, that he most
enjoyed his work amongst the students.  If asked what he liked least he
would have answered, without hesitation, administration and committees.  He
wrote and published several academic books.  They were well reviewed in the
specialist press, but did not make him much money.  They did serve to bring
his name to the fore in certain profitable circles.
  He was put on the board of a couple of City businesses.  He found this
area of work interesting and very profitable.  He was frequently asked to
lecture.  His fluency in German and French opened doors in the countries
where those languages are spoken. Language was no bar when it came to the
United States.  Two or three times a year he would be flying over to North
America to give a number of lectures.  Reading University, and Potter's End
were close to Heathrow which made international travel easier than if he
were in Cambridge or Nottingham.  He and Ross did not have an extravagant
lifestyle, so his wealth, with wise investment, steadily increased.

Trevor found that he was spending quite a bit of time in London and decided
to obtain a small pied-a-terre.  It was very small, and was far removed
from the terre as it was on the fifth floor.  The main part was a small
sitting room and a small bedroom, most of which was taken up with a double
bed.  There was a tiny kitchen.  Ross said that the only way the two of
them could be in it at the same time was for them both to be naked and
one's prick up the other one's arse.
  Trevor said he was just a crude Kiwi whenever he used that description in
select company.  It did provide a base for them both to see and do things
in London of an evening, without having to face the journey back to the
wilds of south Buckinghamshire.

Their relationship continued to be as strong as ever.  They continued to
argue a great deal, but never over something that really affected or
mattered to them both.

They did not proclaim from the rooftops that they were gay; but neither did
they make a secret of the fact.  Potter's End was a small community of
about 500 people.  Some of them were natives who had always lived locally;
some families had lived in the same house for several generations.  Others
were 'newcomers' like themselves.  These tended to be prosperous people,
some of whom commuted each day up to London.  There were two grape vines in
the community:
    one for those who had lived there all their lives, and the other for
those who were new.  The original families tended to be suspicious of all
newcomers, and when it was learnt that the two men living at Russell's were
gay, the information quickly went the length of that grapevine, and the
reaction was one of shock and fascination.  With the new comers the
reaction was somewhat different.  The women folk tended to shrug their
shoulders and were from the start more accepting.  In fact many of the
women liked the two men, probably not realising that it was because they
felt safe with them.  The men folk were different.  At first they tended to
treat Trevor and Ross with a cold reserve.  This was probably for a number
of reasons.  But Trevor and Ross did not conform to the image of gay men
that most of these other men had.  Trevor and Ross were not effeminate or
'camp' in any way.  Then there was probably also that mixture of hostility
and envy at what they thought was sexual athleticism, with frequent and
varied sexual activity.

Trevor and Ross just remained themselves.  They were open and friendly.
They would stop and talk to anybody they met.  They earned 'brownie points'
by supporting the Potter's End Fete.  They made and ran a 'hit the rat'
side show.  After they had been to a couple of Saturday coffee mornings
they were accepted.  But when the newcomers discovered that Ross was a well
known author and Trevor a University professor the doors were open!  There
was one matter that did give some concern to both communities and that was
the dark skinned young man who was a frequent visitor to Russell's, and
sometimes came on a noisy motorbike.

Ross continued with his writing.  Each book made money.  He was never top
of the best seller list, nor were his books sufficiently avant-garde to
attract the attention of certain critics and win a prestigious prize.  But
Hollywood seemed to like them, and quickly snapped up the film rights soon
after each one was published.  This meant that Ross too was steadily making
money and with Trevor's advice as to investment, it grew.

Adam and Zach were keen readers of Ross' books, and always went to see the
film of the book.  They tried to persuade Ross to see the films, but never
succeeded.  In fact their comments confirmed his decision.  After seeing
two or three of the films they started guessing the mutilations that would
be carried out in the next film.  Usually it was far worse than they had
predicted.

Every year Ross went out to New Zealand to see his folk for a month.  His
father died suddenly in 1987 and he managed to fly out for the funeral.
His mother was taken ill in 1991 and he was with her for the three weeks
before she died.  Trevor managed to get out to New Zealand for both
funerals.  Whenever Ross was away there would be more frequent visits from
Zach, sometimes accompanied by Adam.

"You don't have to come and see me," said Trevor on one occasion.
"Especially by leaving poor old Adam on his tod."

"I need to see that you are all right, and that you don't forget how to use
this."  He felt at Trevor's crotch until he could feel a growing hardness
inside the trousers.

"But what about poor old Ross?"

"He has the excitement of being away.  I look after him while you are away
for the same reason," chuckled Zach.

Ross also did some travelling each year to get background for his writing.
Sometimes Trevor went with him, but often he went alone.

Adam and Zach prospered.  They remained full of fun but underneath their
flippant exterior there were a couple of shrewd business brains.  Trevor,
who knew something about these things, was amazed at their business acumen.

Their relationship with Trevor and Ross remained close.  There was a visit
from Zach or both of them every month to six weeks.  Adam usually visited
his parents when Zach came to Potter's End alone.  Zach had been introduced
to Adam's parents when they first went into business together.  It was only
once or twice a year that he would see them.  Adam's mother soon guessed
the true nature of the relationship, but his father, who was as homophobic
as ever, remained in ignorance.

The one crisis, if it can be called that, occurred in 1982.  Adam had had
to go to the bank, and Trevor was on his own cleaning the windows of a
vicarage.  When he started to clean the windows of one of the bedroom he
saw on the bed inside, two men completely naked enjoying each other to the
full.  He stood on the rung of his ladder and watched, conscious of a
definite hardening in his groin.

Later that day a subdued Zach confessed it all to Adam.

"I was just about to start cleaning this bedroom window, when I saw that
there were two guys stark naked on the bed really enjoying each other.
They was going at it hammer and tongs.  I've never seen anything like it.
As I watched my cock started getting 'ard.  It was a bit painful in my
jeans.  I 'ad to adjust the old fella.  I think my movement must have
caught the eye of one of them.  They froze and stared at me.  I smiled and
rubbed my cock, to show I was enjoying the show.  They said something to
each other.  One of them came over to the window, his cock standing out
like a barber's pole.  He asked if I would like to join in.  I ask you,
Adam.  What man of honest flesh and real red blood could turn down such a
gift 'orse in the gob I nodded.  He signalled me to go down to the front
door.  I stood there, and he came down wearing a dressing gown.  He
unlocked the door and let me in.  'I'm Zach, short for Zachariah,' I said.
I think we even shook hands.  This guy led the way upstairs to the bedroom.
I gave me usual introduction to the other guy, who was lying on the bed
with a towel over his landing gear.  They was eyeing me up and down, but
mainly on the 'you know' area.  'Get your kit off and join in,' said the
guy on the bed.  I was stripped off before you could say 'Jack Robinson'.
We were having a great old time.  All the works.  They seemed to think
having a threesome with a black guy made it all so much better.  Suddenly
there was an almighty yell.  The wife of the guy whose house it were had
come home.  He'd forgotten to lock the door!"

Adam listened to all this with a mixture of open mouthed amazement and
laughter.  "What did you do?"

"Got dressed quick, and did a bunk.  I hope you're not angry wiv me."

Adam laughed.  "If I'd been you, I think I'd 'ave done the same."

The following weekend Adam and Zach travelled down to Potter's End in their
brand new transit van.  On it was written in large letters A & Z.  In
smaller letters 'Adam and Zach.'  In very small letters 'Zach short for
Zachariah,' Then in larger letters again 'Windows and Gutters cleaned and
repaired etc.'

"What's the etc.?" asked Ross.

"We'll consider anything anyone asks us to do.  We can always say 'No can
do,' replied Adam.

Zach really enjoyed telling the story of what had happened at the vicarage.
There was much laughter.  But Trevor thoughtfully added, "But I wonder what
happened to that marriage."

Their business diversified and expanded.  They had got to know a small-time
builder, who was about to retire.  With the aid of a loan from Trevor and
Ross and also from the bank they bought the business.  They had made sure
that the foreman, who was in many ways the key person in the business,
would stay on.  The purchase of the business gave them small premises from
which to operate rather than from the garage that went with their flat.

The bank manager had been very hesitant about lending so much money to such
young, and coloured men.  When Adam detected his reluctance, he got out the
accounts for the business from its earliest days.

The bank manager looked at them carefully.  "Did you keep these?"

"Yes, we always make sure that every penny is accounted for.  We have a
session on the accounts once and sometimes twice a week.  This can get more
difficult if you get behind."

"I've seen far worse kept accounts of businesses ten times your size.
Where did you learn to do this?"

"A friend who is a University Professor in Economic History, whose guardian
was a banker.  He gave us the loan to start us off."

"Which I see you repaid very quickly, and set aside money."

"He was a great help."

"He taught you well.  Tell him how impressed I am."

There were no further difficulties there; but there was a slight difficulty
with the inherited foreman, when he discovered that Adam and Zach were gay.
They detected a change in the way he was relating to them.

"What's the matter, Bill?"  asked Adam one day.

"Nothing!"

"Yes, there is.  You seemed happy with us taking the business over; and
more than happy to stay on and work for us," said Adam.

"But over the last couple of weeks you've changed.  You don't chat to us
like you used to.  You used to tell us about you wife and your sons, but
nothing recently.  Is everything okay at home?" asked Zach.

Bill looked from one to the other.  "I thought you were both married.
You've got rings on your wedding fingers.  But then it sort of slipped out
that you was living together.  I think you're a couple of poofters!"

Zach and Adam glanced at each other.  "Yes, Bill, we are a couple of
poofters, as you call us.  We'd prefer to be called gay.  Yes, we live
together.  Are we bad bosses?  Have we treated you badly?" asked Zach.

"No, you've been very fair."

"So what's the problem?" asked Adam.

"It isn't natural, what you do."

"It is for us, Bill," said Zach softly.  "For us, what you do with your
wife is unnatural.  I don't think we could do it if we tried."

Bill looked up at them, with small degree of understanding in his eyes.

"Why did you choose to.... you know?"

"We didn't choose; anymore than you chose to want to make love to a woman.
That is natural for you, what we do is natural for us," explained Zach.

"I think it might take me a little while to get my mind round all that."

"Take your time.  Ask any questions you want, within reason," said Adam.

"And we're not after getting into your trousers, or into the trousers of
your sons," said Zach.

A look of relief went across Bill's face, and Zach realised he had said
exactly the right thing.

***

Young Trevor Driffield did well at Oxford getting a double first in Greats.
The world was open before him.  He chose to take up law, and was soon
working hard in London.  He continued to visit Trevor and Ross from time to
time.  Occasionally his visit would coincide with a visit from Zach.
Though very different, there was a friendship between the two men.  They
always asked after each other.

Trevor Driffield married and became a barrister, and took silk in 1990.  IN
1988 He married in 1988 the daughter of another lawyer.  Trevor and Ross
went to the wedding.  It was a top hat and tails do.

Paul Driffield became an Archdeacon.  One Sunday evening in March 1983 Paul
phoned Trevor.

After the usual chat Paul said, "Make sure you listen to the one o'clock
news on Tuesday."

"Why?" replied Trevor.

"Can't say at the moment."

Trevor thought for a moment.  "Are you going to have to be congratulated?"

"Mustn't say any more.  Just listen to the news."

Paul had received the letter from Number 10, Downing Street asking him to
become Bishop of Dewsbury in Yorkshire.  He accepted.  He was consecrated
Bishop in York Minster according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church
of England on Monday 10th October, St Paulinus Day.  Trevor and Ross, as
friends of the new bishop. had seats in the second row, just behind Lizzie
Driffield and the children.  It was a bright sunny autumn day with the sun
streaming in through the ancient stained glass of the Minster onto the
copes and robes of the clergy.  All agreed it was a moving occasion.

Paul now had to visit London more than ever.  He often used Trevor's
pied-a-terre.  There was one memorable occasion when Paul phoned Trevor
late one evening.  "Trev, I've got to be in London a couple of days next
week.  Something's cropped up on the committee I'm chairing, and we need a
couple of days in Church House.  Can I stay in you place?"

Trevor looked at his diary.  "I've got to be there that night.  You're
welcome to stay.  But you'd have to share the bed!"  Trevor chuckled.

"You've been trying to get me into bed with you for thirty odd years.  I
think your patience ought to be rewarded.  I'll take the risk of
molestation and accept."

Paul had arrived at Trevor's apartment first, and had let himself in.  He
was enjoying a drink when Trevor arrived all togged up in a dinner jacket.

"I haven't seen you looking like that since our last May Ball at
Cambridge," said Paul.

"Been wining and dining at Draper's Hall.  These old City companies
certainly know how to do things well."  Trevor got himself a drink and
flopped down into one of the to easy chairs.  He took of his shoes and
wriggled his toes.  "That feels better."

They discussed the day they had just had, and caught up on family news.

"I don't know about you, Paul, but I'm in need of bed."

"Same here."

"I suggest you go through the tiny bathroom and get into bed first.  There
is not enough room for two getting undressed through there.  That's the way
Ross and I do it when we're here together."

Paul went through and showered and got into bed.  He called out to Trevor
when he was in bed.

Trevor followed.  "I hope you realise I'm wearing these in your honour!"
He held up his one and only pair of pyjamas.  They both laughed.

Soon Trevor too was in bed.  They lay on their backs side by side.

"It's a long time since we have spent any real time alone together," said
Trevor.  "There's usually other people around."

"Your partner, my wife and kids."

Trevor smiled up at the ceiling.  "In the early days of our friendship I
often wondered if we'd end up in bed together."

"You wanted to, didn't you, Trev?"

"Yes.  Especially that first time I came down to your place in
Gloucestershire.  I wondered then.  I decided I would not make the first
move.  I just did not want to risk our friendship by making an approach
that you did not want.  I valued the friendship too much."

Paul turned onto his side facing Trevor.  "I thought about it too, Trev.
There was a part of my that wanted to, because I knew you wanted to.  I
thought it might seal, or perhaps I should say, consummate our
relationship.  But I knew that it was not for me.  I think if you'd made a
pass at me I'd 'ave found it hard to resist."

Trevor turned on his side so that they were lying face to face.  "I'm glad
we never did."

A slight look of surprise crossed Paul's face.

"Your friendship is one of the most important things in my life.  It stands
alongside Isaac and Ross.  It has shown me that two men can be close.  Can
I use the word 'love'?  Can love each other without engaging in genital
activity.  You'd be surprised that amongst groups of gays, many have gay
friends with whom they have never done anything more than a hug and a kiss
or two."

Paul moved and accidentally his hand touched Trevor's.  Trevor grasped it
and they held hands.

"I've known all through the years, Paul, that you were there.
 You never judged me for being gay.  Even with the affair with Bob, you
listened and spoke wisely, even though I knew you disapproved of the
relationship with a married man.  I wish more of your fellow Church people
were like you.  I suppose my one sadness is that we have not had much time
over these busy years to be together, and talk one to one."

"Thanks for what you are saying.  I agree.  I would'ave liked to have been
able to spend more time together.  Perhaps when we're both retired."  There
was a short silence.  "You've been a good uncle to the kids, and just what
I'd hope you'd be when I asked you to be godfather to your namesake."

"I think you naming your firstborn son after me is one of the things I feel
most honoured and privileged by."

"He always speaks so highly about you.  He has a wonderful combination of
love and respect for you."

They squeezed each other's hands.

"Did Ross mind about us sleeping together?" asked Paul.

Trevor laughed.  "No.  When I told him what we'd be doing.  He said I'd be
safe with you as you're as straight as a die.  Then he added, 'Three
bishops in one bed' is an interesting thought."

"Three bishops?"

"One bishop ecclesiastical, and two between our legs, as in 'bashing the
bishop!"

"I haven't heard that expression since I was at school," said Paul, with a
laugh.

"Yes, it takes the warped and convoluted mind of a Kiwi to come up with
something like that."

They both began to yawn.

"Sleep?" asked Paul.

Trevor nodded.  "Can I ask a favour?"

Paul's eyes opened wide.  "I suppose so. Yes."  He wondered what was
coming.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes.  I'd like that."

Trevor moved forward.  They gave each other a long and tender kiss.

"Thank you, Trev."

They turned on to their backs.

"I love you," said Paul.

"Love you, too," came the reply.

They turned onto their sides so that they lay back to back.  They were soon
fast asleep.

*** The episode in the tiny bedroom of Trevor's apartment in London altered
the friendship between the two men.  They became even closer.  They both
knew exactly where they stood.  They trusted each other completely.  They
were now able to show more affection towards each other.  When they met and
when they said goodbye there was not just a perfunctory hug, it now meant
something.  When they were alone there were now kisses as well.

Both Ross and Lizzie noticed the difference.

In the privacy of the bedroom at Potters End Ross commented.  "You seem
much closer to Paul.  The relationship is slightly different, better, more
at ease with each other since you spent the night with him in town."

"Does that worry you?"

"Not at all.  I'm glad.  You two have been the best of friends for many
years, and it is good to see that such a friendship can get even better.
You've given a lot to each other over the years."

As The Right Revd and Mrs Driffield prepared for bed in the privacy of the
episcopal bedroom at Bishop's Manor Lizzie spoke her mind.  "I think you
owe more to Trev than you realise.  He has given you insights into a very
different strata of society that has stood you in good stead throughout
your ministry.  He has made you think seriously about what it means to be
gay, something most of the clergy of the Church of England, except those
who are already gay, refuse to do.  It has been good for you to have a
close friend who is not a churchgoer.  Brings a breath of fresh air into
the ecclesiastical fug of your life.  And you seem even closer since you
shared a bed in London."

"You make that sound as though we consummated our friendship that night,"
said Paul as he pulled off his purple shirt.

"I think you did, but not in the usual understanding of the term.  I think
you both put into words the one thing you had never shared, your sexual
relationship and your different desires over the years.  The final barrier
came down, and you were able physically to express what you felt for each
other."
 Lizzie got into bed.

"What?  SWALK - Sealed with a Loving Kiss as the soldier wrote on the
envelope of the letter to his girl friend?"  Paul took off his pants.

"Yes, and why not.  Straight men are afraid to show what they feel about
each other."

"You approve then?" as he took off his socks.

"I, one hundred per cent, approve of Trevor Russell and your friendship
with him.  I owe him a lot; he has helped to make you the man I love and
have put up with all these years."

"Thanks, Liz.  Can I now show you just how much I love you?"

"Of course.  I thought that was coming," added Lizzie as she eyed her
husband's hardening cock.

***

Trevor's retirement in the summer of 1992 brought some immediate changes in
the lifestyle of the inhabitants of Russell's, Potters End.  Trevor no
longer had the daily University commitments in Reading.  Much to his
pleasure they made him an Emeritus Professor.  This meant that from time to
time he was asked to lecture, and was invited to some of the more official
and ceremonial events at the University.

Trevor also kept on his Directorships in the City.  He enjoyed this side of
work, and it continued to be profitable to him.
 Because he and Ross both liked going to the theatre and visiting
exhibitions in London he decided to keep on the small apartment in
Belgravia.  They found themselves using it a lot.  Often when Trevor had a
board meeting Ross would come to London as well.  While Trevor was in the
City Ross often went to off to the reading room of the British Museum, to
get background information for his writing.

One of the first things that Trevor and Ross did in the autumn of 1992 was
to go round the world.  They spent nearly four months visiting Egypt,
India, Malaysia and Singapore, and Hong Kong.  They had a couple of weeks
in Indonesia, staying for a week in Bali, then to Australia, and Christmas
in New Zealand.  In the middle of January they visited some of the South
Sea Islands, ending up on Fiji.  They flew to Honolulu and then on to
Vancouver and train across Canada. They arrived back in Potters End just as
the daffodils were coming into bloom, and as the garden began to make
demands for attention.  When they got back from their world tour they
realised all the places they had not been to.  Ross took great delight in
sticking more pins into his world map.  There were not so many as there
would have been twenty years before, but for those who knew the
significance it was all there.

One of the first things that Zach and Adam did when they visited the
returned travellers was to examine the map.  Some pins aroused questions.
"What happened at this one?"  asked Zach of a pin in the middle of Egypt's
Western Desert.

"A night under the stars, my boy," answered Trevor.  "The Kiwi was on good
form that night, amorous and ardent.  Satisfied me twice."

"And you know only too well satisfying that insatiable Pom takes some
doing," remarked Ross. "It was good.  Just after sun down the desert was
still warm, and we'd never seen stars like it.  We had to get away from the
rest of the party."

"Behind a dune?" asked Adam.

"No on a patch of sand behind a rocky outcrop actually"

"I think they could hear that Kiwi in Cairo, the noise he made when he shot
his load."

"We're glad that you two aren't past it yet," said Adam.

"We've been looking forward to some fun for weeks.  We missed you.  Which
of you is hoping for this sex starved West Indian?" said Zach.

"Sex starved!  Sex starved?  We fucked each other twice each way last
night, and you're still desperate for more," expostulated Adam.

                 "Of course," said Zach with a broad contented grin on his
face.

***

In December 1993 Isaac celebrated his eightieth birthday.  Trevor and Ross
flew out to Tel Aviv to join in the celebrations.  Isaac was slightly more
bent, but had allowed his luxuriant white hair to grow longer.  This made
him look even more distinguished.  Joseph had again organised the
celebration, and there were many family and friends there.

Trevor and Ross stayed on for a further couple of weeks.  The relationship
between the Israeli government and the PLO was going through one of it
easier periods.  This meant that they were able to travel all over the Holy
Land.  They visited the Old City of Jerusalem, Bethlehem and many other
ancient sites.

Trevor and Isaac spent a lot of time talking together.  Ross understood
their need to be together and often went off of an evening to do his own
thing.  That often involved work of some sort on his latest book.

Trevor and Isaac not only talked about the past.  They talked about the
political situation in both Israel and Britain.  Margaret Thatcher had been
turfed out of office three years before.  There would be a general election
soon and there was every expectation that Neil Kinnock the leader of the
Labour Party would succeed John Major as Prime Minister.  They had a heated
discussion about the Israeli settlements going up on the West Bank in
defiance of UN resolutions.  Even Isaac had reservations about the
rightness and wisdom of these settlements.  The changing world order with
the end of the Cold War was also discussed.  Isaac was hopeful that it
might inaugurate a time of world peace and prosperity.  Trevor was much
more doubtful, seeing the possibility of old conflicts being resumed, and
new struggles emerging.

"I think I have something of the Christian doctrine of Original Sin in me,"
said Trevor.

"Yes, that is part of a Christian's baggage, and not their best
contribution to the world. We Jews are free of that burden," was Isaac's
response.

On their final evening together they talked for a while.

"Trev, I want to tell you what I have done in my will.  I have made you and
Joseph my executors.  If you want to do it yourselves you can, or you can
put it into the hands of the lawyers.  They will line their pockets and
leave you the odd crumb or two."

"You've never had a very high opinion of lawyers," responded Trevor.

Isaac laughed.  "What I've done is this.  I'm not in danger of having to go
begging.  I have considerable money both here in Israel and also in the UK"

Trevor gave Isaac a glance.  "Is it out of order to say something about a
Jew and money?"  This was said with a cheeky grin.


"You must remember I am not only a Jew, I am also a banker, the son of an
Austrian banker, and the grandson of an Austrian banker, probably there are
generations of bankers and before that, money lenders.  But let me tell you
what I've done.  My will is basically in two parts.  After a few separate
bequests, all my Israeli money will go to Joseph.
  It will keep it in the family.  All my English money will come to you.
It will keep you in the manner to which you are accustomed."

Trevor laughed at Isaac's quotation.  "Thanks Isaac.  But what can I say.
I hope it will be a long while before I am called to be executor."  He
reached over and held Isaac's hand.

"I'm over eighty now.  I cannot expect to go on for ever.  Our allotted
span is supposed to be three score years and ten,
 and 'some there be that reach four score'.  But I must confess I feel
ready for another few years yet."

"Isaac, I owe everything to you."

"No, Trevor my boy.  You may owe a lot, but not everything.  What about the
soldier friend who died saving your life?  What about your parents?  What
about Ross?  and Paul?"

"You're right," said Trevor, thoughtfully.

"Now in my old age, I often think back.  I realise how much I have to be
thankful for.  I had a happy childhood.  I was loved by my parents, and
brothers and sisters."  He paused, and Trevor saw a tear in his eyes.

"Hitler and the holocaust were terrible.  But if that man had not have been
I would not have gone to London.  I would not have known you.  You are the
real joy of my life.  Nanny Flora, God bless her, was right when she said
you were my great work in life.  You gave me so much, Trevor, so much."
 The tears were flowing down his cheeks.

"Yes, Isaac, you did take in vat bleedin' urchin you found on ver streets.
You fed 'im, gave 'im an 'ome, educated 'im, and above all loved 'im.  And
the last was the most important."

"Once a cockney always a cockney" said Isaac with a laugh.

"And I'm bleedin proud of it," added Trevor still with the accent.

Isaac never returned to England, but Trevor, often accompanied by Ross,
continued to visit Isaac every year or eighteen months.

***

Paul Driffield continued to work as hard as ever.  Clergy of the Church of
England could retire at 65 with the Pension that was due to them; but they
could stay on and retire at the age of 70.  Paul was often in London, and
though young Trevor and his family had a house in Finchley, he preferred to
stay in Trevor's apartment as it was so convenient for both Church House
and Lambeth Palace where many of the meetings took place, and also he could
either work or relax of an evening without interruption from son and
grandchildren.  There were several occasions when Trevor and Paul shared
the bed.  They valued the time together, and just being together with the
opportunity to talk.

Young Trevor decision to take silk in 1990 was something of a gamble.  He
was regarded as young to do so.  He was soon justified in his decision.  It
was sometimes said of QCs that life was either all roses and no pay, or all
pay and no roses.  Young Trevor was an example of the latter.  He talked
things over with his father Paul and decided to take over the family house
of Winchfield.  There his wife and children would live.  He took a small
apartment in town and commuted on the motorway between London and
Gloucestershire.  It meant three nights with wife and family and the rest
of the week in London.  Under the arrangement Paul kept his part of the
Manor for when he retired, while young Trevor and his family had the rest
of the house.  The prospect seemed good, and Paul began to look forward to
retiring back to the ancestral home.

Trevor and Ross visited Winchfield once or twice a year, often going there
when Paul and Lizzie were there as well.

"I'm beginning to look forward to Paul's retirement," said Lizzie.  "We
will be able to have a real family Christmas again in the house.  No more
Paul having to preach in the cathedral on Christmas Day morning."

"You must come with us out to New Zealand for a retirement holiday," said
Ross.

Trevor and Ross went away from the middle of November 1996 until February
1997.  As always the journey out and the journey home involved visiting
some of the places they had not been to before.  Though it was not the
ideal time of year, they went to Japan on the way out.  Ross had made some
friends there when he had met a Japanese family during a background finding
trip to South Africa.

The were planning their trip.  "There is something I would really like to
do," said Trevor.

"What's that?"

"As we are in Japan I wonder if we could slip across to Korea.
  I would like to go and visit Eric's grave.  I very much doubt if anyone
has ever visited it.  Unless his family have changed a lot I don't think
there was anything like the money to get over there."

"Do know where he is buried?"

"No, but I can find out."

Trevor wrote to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission giving details of
Eric's name and the date and place where he was killed. The reply came
three days later giving all the details they would require to find the
grave.

Just before they left Trevor succeeded in making contact with a sister of
Eric's.  She was delighted to know that someone was going to visit the
grave.  Trevor went and saw her briefly.

So it was on a very bleak raw day, of grey skies and threatened snow, that
the hired car drew up outside the cemetery.  Inside they found the
immaculate lines of grave stones.  They were in perfect alignment.  The
grounds were well tended.  It did not take them long to find the grave.
Trevor and Ross stood in front of Eric's grave.  They read "Pte Eric
Hassock, 22502zyx [See footnote ] the name of his Regiment, aged 19."

"Thanks Eric for giving me a life.  I hope in some small way I have not let
you down."  He placed on the grave a wreath of flowers he had bought in
Seoul, in the middle of which was one very faded and battered rose from
England.  Then he felt into his pocket, and brought out a tobacco tin.  In
it were some rose petals, now rather dry and faded.  He scattered them over
the grave.  "These are from your garden in Weasenham St Paul.  They're from
your sister, she lives there now.  She sends her love."

"Thank you, Eric," said Ross.  "Thank you for saving Trevor's life so that
I could have these years of love with him.  I owe you more than I could
ever repay."  He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of flint.
"This is from our garden in Buckinghamshire.  I wish you could've been a
part of our family."

"When I came back from Korea Isaac said to me something about making sure I
did not waste the life his sacrifice had given me.  I hope I have not
wasted it."

"No, my love.  That is one thing you have not done."

They stood holding hands.

"A sentimental journey!" said Trevor as they were being driven back to
Seoul.

"May be.  But it is sometimes good to be sentimental, to give expression to
those feelings which we so often hold back. I expect you have kept the
memory of poor Eric alive more than his siblings.  His parents when they
were alive would obviously miss him.  But his brothers and sisters would
have their own families to think about.  He saved your life, and you have
lived with a sense of gratitude."

"And a sense of lurking guilt that it should have been me in that grave."

"Well it wasn't.  I reckon Eric is wanting to say thank you for coming all
this way.  And I'm glad your alive and kicking."

Trevor turned and grinned at Ross.  "I thought you were going to say 'Alive
and fucking,' that would be more Kiwi-ish!"

"No, that's for tonight.  We can then stick in a Korean pin."

"You and your pins.  I sometimes think we do it just for the sake of your
bloody pins!"

"How did you guess.  But the evidence is otherwise."  Ross grabbed Trevor's
hand and placed it on his crotch where he felt a hardening penis.

***

They spent Christmas and the New Year at Ross' old home on the South Island
of New Zealand.  His eldest brother now lived in the old home, and was
running the successful vineyard.  On the day before their departure Ross
said to Trevor.  "I want to go down to my, our special place, by the
river."

"But we've been down there several times."

"I know.  But I want to go again."

They scrambled down to the river as they had done for the first time thirty
three years before!  The descent was more circumspect as age was catching
up on them.  At the bottom, on the flat rocks by the gurgling river they
put their arms round each other.

"Thanks, Trev."

"What for?"

"For coming down here again.  And for being you.  For all the love you've
given me over all these years.  When I first brought you down here I did
not think my love for you could be any greater.  It is, and I suppose it
will continue to grow."


"I feel the same.  We have argued the toss about everything under the sun,
but we've never fallen out.  Never quarrelled."

"What's it to be?  Swim and a fuck, or a fuck and a swim?"

"I think you said that, Ross, the first time you brought me here.  What did
we do then?"

"I think we swam first."

Trevor stripped off, and dived into the pool below, closely followed by
Ross.  They spent the next half hour swimming around, and talking.  Then
they climbed back up onto the flat rocks above.

"Let me have a good look at you, Ross."  Trevor walked round Ross looking
at him carefully.  Ross' hair was now white, but it was still a full head
of hair.  "I think you've lost a little weight."

"All the strange food on our travels," explained Ross.

"You've never been one of Pharaoh's fat kine."

Trevor stroked Ross, and gave a buttock a gentle squeeze.  Then he knelt
down in front of Ross.  He took the limp circumcised cock into his hands,
and kissed it.  It stirred in his hand, so he placed it in his mouth,
feeling it harden and grow.

"That's nice, Trev.  You know I always like the way you do that.  But
first, I want to inspect you."  He pulled Trevor up onto his feet, and
started walking round him.

Trevor's hair had turned grey, and there was a growing bald patch on the
crown of his head.  He too ran his hand over Trevor's chest and back.  He
stroked the stomach.  "This has grown a little since we were first here."

"That's your cooking.  But I've only put on a stone and a half."  explained
Trevor.  [Footnote Two]

Then he knelt in front of Trevor and held his uncircumcised cock.
Immediately it began to harden and the head began to appear out of the
foreskin.  "I must have seen that happen hundreds of times. I think it's
beautiful.  No sun at dawn is as beautiful as your cock-head appearing to
welcome me for another session of love making."  He placed several kisses
all over Trevor's cock.

"You ought to write poetry, not prose.  Can I fuck you with this cock you
love so much?"

"Of course.  How do you want me."

"Me on my back, and you sitting on me.  Then I can look into those
wonderful limpid blue eyes of yours."

"Who's being poetic now?"

Trevor lay down on his back, and lubricated his cock.

Ross prepared himself and slowly lowered himself into position.

"You don't do so badly for an old'un," said Ross.  "Keeping that cock up
for so long."

"It's where it likes to be, up a certain Kiwi's arse."

"I wonder how many times we've done it?"

"Haven't you been keeping count?"

"No.  But I enjoy it as much as ever."  Ross began to move with more
intention.

Trevor got hold of Ross' cock.  But by keeping his eye on Ross' face, and
knowing how close to their final destination he was, he could work it so
they climaxed together.  They were, after all, experienced in the
technique.

The timing was perfect.  Great gushes of cum shot into the dark seclusion
of Ross, while Ross' donation shot out over Trevor's chest, neck and face.
They remained in the same position for a while regaining their breath.
They lay side by side, and Ross licked his own cum off Trevor, and placed
his tongue in Trevor's mouth, before swallowing the remainder himself.
They lay for a long while in each other's arms.

"I think I like retirement," announced Trevor.  "It gives us time to do the
important things like this without having to hurry."

They gathered up their things to begin the ascent to the track leading to
Ross' old home.

"I wonder if we can still do it without stopping?" asked Ross.


"If we take it slowly, I'm sure we can.  We still take plenty of exercise
and are pretty fit."

They began to make their way up the steep slope through the bush.  Trevor
pulled ahead.  Then he turned and saw Ross panting for breath.  "You all
right?" he called.

"Just lost me breath.  I must have been lying awkwardly down there."

"Or old age," said Trevor.

"I'll give you old age, you juvenile Pom!"

The next day they resumed their travels.

*** Footnote:-

1.  Attentive readers of my stories will know what happened with one of the
married men with whom Zach had that brief encounter.

2.  One stone and a half.  One stone is 14 lbs, so 21 lbs.  Not a great
deal more weight for a retired man.

Three more chapters to go!!

Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com