All You Need Is Love

by Neph

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in protected sex. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 2002 by "Neph". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and my host's web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.

This story was commissioned by someone dear to me, and the commission came with certain ground rules that had to be obeyed. These ground rules, of course, have dictated the parameters of the story. It was quite a challenge. I hope it pleases - at the very least - the dear soul that comissioned it.



It's dark in here. It's stifling in here. Claustrophobic. I need to break out of here in order to start living, to get myself a life. But I can't, I dare not. There are people out there in the real world, people who must never know who I really am - or rather what I really am. So here I am, self-incarcerated in my self-made prison. It's not a cell I've put myself into. Cells have bars you can see through: in a cell you can see and be seen. It's a closet that I am in, a closet with closed doors, and I am so far inside this closet that I cannot even see myself any more. I am gone from daylight, from the light of life. God, help me! Please! I have a few good friends - very good friends. But it's not the same. I'm so desperately lonely. Life is not truly livable without intimate companionship, a loving partner. God! Let me live! Let me love! Let me out of here!

My name is John Jeremy Lauder, but people who know me call me JJ. I have recently graduated from law school. Well, if you count the five years of study and the added time for internship then you can guess that I am about 25 years old. My mother tells everyone who will listen that I will make some lucky girl a wonderful husband. What does my mother know? She gave birth to me, she nurtured me, she fed me, clothed me, loved me. For a quarter of a century she has been my mother. I still live under her roof. She knows me intimately - and she knows nothing about me at all that is worth knowing! She thinks she knows her son. Wonderful husband, indeed! She smothers me with love. What would she feel, how would she react, if she knew that her darling son would never make any girl a wonderful husband? - that he does not want to be a husband, that he cannot imagine himself as some woman's husband - except in his nightmares. Mum has showered me with love - stifled me with cloying affection - since I exited from her womb. I can't do this to her. I can't shatter her illusion. But, of course, one day soon she is going to start asking some very awkward questions...

Is it because of Mum that I have shut myself into this black hole of a closet? - a hole from which nothing escapes, not even light. Maybe. But I must be honest with myself. It's not just Mum that must never know my true nature. No one must know. I rationalize to myself that no one must know because people would not go to a lawyer who was known to be a poof, a fairy, a queer. But that is not really the whole truth. I am in this self-made closet because I value what people think of me: I don't want to lose stature, I don't want to lose face, and I think that if people knew that I was a queer they would think less of me. Nonsense? Maybe. Shall I risk it and leave this closet? Maybe. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, next month, next year, next decade... "Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today". Who am I kidding? I can't even kid myself! You think that I am exaggerating? This is London, England. These are the roaring 60's. Everything moves to the beat of the Beatles, Jerry and the Pacemakers, Herman's Hermits, Dave Clark Five. Modern, forward-looking London. Except for one thing. The way I want to express my love and my personality is illegal. I am a pervert, a potential criminal. I should be damned to hellfire eternal. I should be locked up in a prison where people like me belong. Well, I'd rather be locked up in a prison of my own making, thank you very much.

Of course, there could be another reason why I am in the closet: fear. Not fear of the present, nor fear of the future, but fear of the past. Even that's not quite true: it's memory of the past colouring the present and the future. Although it happened more than fifteen years ago the emotional and psychological scars are still there and ... Leave it alone; I don't want to think about it again. I thought all that was behind me, finished, done with. But I know in my heart of hearts that if the day should ever come when I find someone, that special someone, all the emotional and psychological scars will resurface with a vengeance. And then what will I do?

I don't know how old I was when I first realized that I was queer, but I was pretty young. I am almost certain that I knew that I was queer before ... before 'it' happened - and 'it' happened when I was about ten years old. Later, at high school, my hormones were raging: every few months there was another guy whom I desired, ached for, dreamed of - and not one of them ever knew how I felt about them. Just being in the changing rooms was sweet hell as I looked at naked bodies that I so much wanted to touch, trying desperately to hide from others' view the obvious physical sign of my own arousal. The very fact that they were unattainable made them all that much more desirable, but I could never bring myself to even broach the subject with any of them. Fear of rejection? Fear of ridicule? Fear of them? Fear of me? Fear of 'it'? They are all probably true to some extent or other. But it's not important: the only thing that is important is that I stayed in my closet. No one knew; no one even suspected, I am almost certain. Nightly, one-by-one - and sometimes two-by two - they figured vividly in the mental images that I conjured up as I worked myself into an erotic frenzy with my strong right hand.

After high school came university. My old friends, those few precious ones that I had known since elementary school, were still my staunch friends. At university I made some friends, but none of them were really much more than casual social acquaintances. They were the kind that you could spend an evening with in a crowd or that you could sit with chatting in the saloon lounge of a pub slowly sipping lager and lime. I was lucky that I studied not too far from home. I was even luckier that my very best friend was at university with me. While I was studying law PR was studying medicine. PR - Pete - and I could chat for hours, sometimes very intensively. PR has known for many years that I am 'different', as he puts it, but that has never made any difference to his friendship towards me. I love him dearly, and I know that he would do anything for me. Anything. If he had been 'different' like me I think my whole life would have taken a different course. But PR wasn't 'different', just me.

We finished university and had a party. Everyone was there. I hate crowds. I always feel very uncomfortable in social crowds. I am useless at small talk, quite often answering in monosyllables, which makes people give up on me quickly. I wonder why!? The record player was dishing out Helen Shapiro (who was walking back to happiness) and Cilla Black (who was complaining that anyone who had a heart would love her). It was just too much for me. Just as I was about to give up on the evening and climb back into my lonely closet a new group of people came in, including PR - which meant that this new group had just graduated from medical school.

As the newcomers began to circulate I saw him. God had arrived. From the moment I first set eyes on him I felt this strange feeling come over me. I wanted to know him, to speak to him, to befriend him. There was some internal force that I could neither control nor understand that was propelling me towards him - physically and emotionally. Pete noticed how I felt (how I don't know!) and whispered to me, "Go to him and say hello." So I did something utterly unthinkable for me: I walked up to this bloke, held out my hand and said, "Hi, I'm JJ". He took my hand, looking straight at me and smiling broadly; but before he could say a word some woman came up, grabbed him by the other hand as if she owned him, saying loudly, "Come here, Ben; there's someone I want you to meet. You'll just love her." She sounded just like my mother. He grinned at me ruefully and shrugged his shoulders as he let himself be led away. Oh that grin, that impish grin! I was not able to speak to him again throughout that whole evening, and I so much wanted to do so. I went home that evening for the first time in a long while feeling happy. That night, on my lonely bed, Ben starred in the one-man show that accompanied my solo exertions. His face, his body, his smile: deep down I knew that this was it.

During the two-year period of internship there were few parties. I did not know him or anything about him apart from his name. PR knew him, of course, but how I really felt for this man Ben was the one thing that I just could not discuss with PR. I don't know why: he would have understood. The problem was me, not PR. Thus it was that there was no way that I could contact Ben. At the occasional party or get-together that did take place I saw him sometimes from afar, but by now I was too shy to go up to him again and say Hi. How could I possibly justify it? What reason could I give? He would think I was queer. Which was true.

Back, back, back into the closet! Back where you belong! Every time you try to leave that closet things go wrong. You'll just make a fool of yourself. Get back inside!

And then my studies were all over: I was declared ready to start my legal practice and others were ready to start their medical practice. Pete was going to work in a hospital. This was an occasion for another party. A big one. Everyone was there. So was he. Ben.


I'm different. I know I'm different. I didn't choose to be different; I just am. I swear to you that I would give anything not to be different. But from the moment that I understood that I was different - completely, irrevocably different - I decided that I would not let that difference rule my life. I would live with it, suppress it, until an opportunity might present itself to admit my difference to someone else who was different like me. So you could say that I'm in a closet, but I'm content to be in the closet. The door isn't shut tight. I always leave the door open just enough to let the light of the real world penetrate, enough to lighten my darkness. If I didn't do that I think I would become insane at worst and rather neurotic at best. It's very lonely here in my closet - especially because I can see how all the other people are enjoying life. Lonely? Who am I kidding? I'm desperately lonely. You know, without that one intimate companion, that loving life partner, life is empty. And that's exactly what I don't have. My busy life is empty.

My name is Ben, Benjamin David Carter, and I have recently qualified as a physician. I'm 25 years old and I'm queer. No one knows this except me - I hope. (Because if it were known I could be arrested even on suspicion - and that would mean the end of my medical career before it has even started.) I've known I was queer since before I knew what the word meant. I think I knew I was different even as a child. I have vague memories of homoerotic images even in infancy. By the time I was thirteen or fourteen I had been aware of my true nature for some time. The last years of school were agony. So many wonderful guys around and none of them could be touched. So many wonderful girls around, all of them wanting to be touched. I was a very attractive male. (Was? I suppose I still am.) That's what made it so hard: not only could I not have what I wanted, but all the time I had to find excuses - which became more and more lame - as to why I didn't take what I could have had, what was freely offered. Then came the day of the litmus test. Jennifer was a girl who made it very clear that she really wanted me. She never left me alone. In our last year at school - Upper Sixth - she became a perfect pest. She would cling to me possessively before class, she pushed herself to share a desk with me during class - when I so much wanted to share a desk with Ralph - and she reclaimed possession immediately after class.

So, why didn't I tell her to shove off, get lost? It must sound lame, but I couldn't think of any excuses to tell others why I didn't want the most attractive girl in the class to be my girl. Because of the way she behaved towards me everyone assumed that Jennifer and Ben were a couple, and there was nothing that I could do about that. So, why didn't I tell Ralph what I felt for him? Are you kidding? Ralph was straight, straight, straight. Straight as a die. Ralph was going steady with Julia - and obviously enjoying it. So Ralph starred every night in my vivid imagination as my strong right hand worked overtime to artificially ease the erotic pain that came as I lay on my lonely bed. And Jennifer starred every day as her strong right hand worked overtime to keep me by her side every moment she could.

We finished school that summer. University would not start until late September. I decided to spend a lot of time at the local sports club keeping in trim. I didn't really need to keep myself in trim, and looking back on it now I think that I forced myself around the running track every day in order to work off my frustrations. One day, I loped off the track feeling gloriously sweaty. I would go and luxuriate under a hot shower - and maybe I would be lucky and see some other hot things under the showers or in the changing room. As I neared the men's showers Jennifer came out of the women's showers. It was early Sunday morning and there was no one around outside. She was wearing just a bathrobe.

"I'm so silly, Ben. I left my bag in the car, so I have to go and get it before I can get dressed. Do you want to come with me to fetch it?"

"No thanks, Jen. I'm all hot and sweaty. I need to get under the shower real fast."

"Hot eh? Will this make you hotter?" In a split second she flashed open her bathrobe, showing me her naked body. My eyes got stuck on her breasts. I was so embarrassed I did not know what to do or where to look. Suddenly, she grabbed the waistband of my running shorts and pulled it towards her and thrust her hand down inside. I was immobilized by the shock. Her hand found what it found and gently cupped what it cupped. And my body reacted erotically. She withdrew her hand in palpable exultation and primly drew her robe together.

"I knew you felt that way for me," she said. "I just knew it! My folks have gone away for the weekend, so there's no one at home but little old me. Do you want to come back to my place and have some fun?"

I was amazed that my body had betrayed me in that way. "Maybe I'm not queer after all," I thought to myself. "Well, there's one way to find out."

"OK, Jen. Give me ten minutes to get rid of all this grime and sweat and I'll come with you."

Sometimes we make fateful decisions on the spur of the moment without giving it too much thought. Well, that certainly was one of them for me. We arrived at her house and with no further ado she ushered me into her bedroom, which was on the ground floor. I surveyed the room, just looking at things. This was the first time I had really been in the bedroom of a girl my own age. I turned around to make a comment and there she was - lying stark naked on her bed, spreadeagled on her back. I looked at her unbelieving. First I looked at her breasts - small, pouchy with nipples that seemed too large. Then my eyes were drawn to that triangular patch of hair between her legs. Believe it or not I had never seen a naked woman before. I was not aroused by what I saw: I was mildly nauseated. I instinctively knew that I was not going to be able to do this.

"Come on, Ben. Get undressed. I can't wait to start." She patted a packet of Durex that lay on the bed next to her.

Slowly I pulled off the top half of my clothes. I suddenly became acutely aware of a bodily malfunction. Nothing was happening! It couldn't have been softer. Maybe it would happen when I lay next to her, I thought. I pulled at my belt and began to unzip my jeans, dreading what was going to happen next.

Yes! There is a God in heaven! And he loves me!

Suddenly we heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway outside, right by the window of her room. Then we heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door.

"Jen! Are you there? We're home!"

Saved! Saved from a fate truly worse than death. I saw the look of horror on Jen's face as she jumped up and pulled on her clothes. Gratefully, I zipped up and pulled on the rest of my clothes. She pulled up the window for me and bundled me out onto the gravel below. As I walked away I could hear her voice: "Hello, Mummy. Hello, Daddy. Why did you come back so early? I wasn't expecting you until..."

That was my first and last attempt to have with a female a liaison that was even remotely sexual. I now knew that I was definitely, incontrovertibly, unquestionably queer. Not straight, nor even bi. Just queer. One hundred percent. My first trip out of the closet had been an unqualified disaster - or a great success, depending on which way you look at things.

After high school came medical school. I made friends there - casual acquaintances. One of them was a guy called Peter. It was very easy to talk to Pete because he was a very likeable guy. Pete became a good mate and soon got to know lots of things about me - but that one thing - me being different - was something that I never discussed even with him.

We finished university and there was a party. I can't remember why but I do remember that all our crowd from the medical school arrived together and late. People milled around us, drinks were put in our hands - that kind of stuff. And then suddenly, out of the blue, this chap came up to me, stuck out his hand and said, "Hi. I'm JJ." Wow! Wowee! What happened? Is this what women go through in menopause? Hot flushes? An electric charge coursing through the body? I can tell you one thing: in that split second I knew, just knew, that JJ was that one person to whom I could happily reveal my difference. I wanted him. Badly. But before I could say a word Helen came up, grabbed me by the other hand - the one that was not shaking JJ's - saying loudly, "Come here, Ben; there's someone I want you to meet. You'll just love her." She sounded just like my mother and was behaving just like Jen. What could I do? I let myself be led away, but not before giving him a smile and a shrug as acknowledgement. When I finally managed to get free I looked for him, but couldn't find him anywhere.

Now came two years of internship. It was hard work and we had very little free time. I tried to locate JJ but no one really knew him all that well: it seems that he kept himself very much to himself. Of course, Pete could have told me where to find JJ, but I had hardly ever mentioned JJ to Pete. I remember once that I did mention JJ to him. There must have been something in my voice, because Pete gave me a sidelong glance with a quizzical look on his face, and then a broad grin. I saw JJ every now and then from afar, but somehow he had always vanished before I could make contact. And then - internship was over. I was ready to start my medical practice and others were ready to start their legal practice. This was an occasion for another party. A big one. Everyone was there.


I was very unhappy and morose at the party. To be honest, it was a very good party and all the others seemed to be enjoying themselves. From the record player the Beatles were telling everyone that "She loves you ... and you know you should be glad". But I was definitely not glad, so, for me, it was a rotten party and Eleanor Rigby was more congenial to my frame of mind. When they got to Seargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band I told myself: that's me! I was unhappy because he was there. Ben. No, don't misunderstand me. I wanted him to be there. I wanted to see him. But every time I did see him I melted inside, complete melt-down. Even from afar Ben was everything I had always dreamed of: looks, build, manner and - as far as I could see - personality. There was still something about him that made me want to go and grab hold of him and merge myself into his being, to become one with him. The need to have him, to possess him, was so great and so insistent that not being able to do so made me miserable, morose. So a party that was enjoyable for everyone else was a rotten party for me.

And now, here was Ben sitting on the wide arm of an armchair on the other side of the room talking to a couple of people. Throughout the evening I'd noticed on several occasions that Ben had looked at me and smiled, but he had never tried to engage me in conversation - and I, of course, was quite helpless at starting conversations with anyone - and certainly not with Ben. I was bound to mess things up as usual. I would either talk too much and too fast, and probably say something that would be disastrous; or I would find it impossible to string together a single coherent sentence. So I just sat there glumly, telling myself how much of a complete and utter failure I was. You've known of him for two years; you desire him; you dream about him; and you have not said a word to him, not tried even once to chat him up. You are worse than useless. You deserve to be in your dank, dark, lonely closet. The Beatles are right again: Get back where you belong! So I just sat there doing nothing, entranced with the way Ben sat and talked with others so easily. His torso held straight up, his hands gesturing animatedly, his face lit up with an engaging smile, and his bum on the arm of the chair, so round and inviting. Such a satisfying picture.

Years of fear and holding back, years of not being able to give expression to innermost emotions and compulsions, had conditioned me to watching from the sides, dreaming, hoping, praying. But the fear of being wrong, the fear of being found out was always far too strong. What would he say if I started talking to him? Hello, poof. Get lost, fuck off! Then suddenly, this evening, the desire was so strong, the wanting so painful, that I decided to take my courage into my own two hands and introduce myself to Ben once again. Just as I made this bold resolution, my hands sticky with sweat and beads of cold perspiration on my brow, a group of people with drinks in their hands stopped right in front of me, talking about something or other; finally they moved out of my line of sight, but when I looked round for him again Ben wasn't there. I scoured the room until I was satisfied that the man who was driving me crazy was no longer there. My face must have reached the floor with misery written all over it. PR came up to me and sat down next to me.

"What's the matter, JJ?" he asked. "Aren't you enjoying the party? You look so miserable."

"No, no," I stammered, "It's a lovely party, PR... It's just that..." and I trailed off helplessly.

"I think I know what you need," said PR.

I immediately reacted negatively, since I was scared he would get me to do something that I didn't want to do. I'd had enough of that from my mother. "No, please, PR," I said, "I'll be OK. I promise."

But he stood his ground. "JJ, I've known you for more than twenty years and I think I've a shrewd idea what's getting at you. Trust me. Anyhow, I just want you to come with me this once and then I'll leave you alone, I promise. Give me just one chance."

"Where do you want me to go?" I asked defensively. "Please, PR, don't try introducing me to some girl or other - I'm not in the mood."

"JJ, I wouldn't dream of introducing you to a girl," PR replied with a warm smile, and there was something in his tone that startled me. Had he read the unrevealed secret from the deepest recesses of my heart? No, that couldn't be. I had never done anything overt (much to my emotional frustration!) and surely his intuition could not go that far. Could it? No! Could it? Could it?

He took me by the hand and I stood up since not to do so would have been very rude and might have caused a scene. "Where are we going, PR?" I asked.

"Just out into the conservatory."

There was a glass conservatory leading off the lounge which had plants and things to decorate it and an easy chair for relaxing in, and so forth. I followed him, led by the hand like a little boy, as he took me out into the conservatory and closed the doors behind us. Boy, was I startled! There was Ben standing by one of the plants! I trembled so much that I could hardly control myself.

"I want to introduce you both," said PR firmly. "JJ Lauder, Ben Carter; Ben Carter, JJ Lauder". Ben held out his hand and I shook it warmly. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ben," I said, somewhat lamely - but it was the truth!

"And I'm very pleased indeed to meet you, JJ - at last," Ben responded.

"I should think so too," said PR decisively. "JJ, you have been pointlessly moping and ogling at Ben all evening like some infatuated schoolgirl; and Ben, you have been leering at JJ for almost two years every time you have seen him. You are both very dear friends of mine, and I was really stupid not to have seen long ago that you were both meant for each other. Well, I've done my bit, now it's up to you two. I'll see that you're not disturbed for the next half hour." With that, he flashed an encouraging smile at both of us and left the room.

There was a moment's silence, then I blurted out, "Ben, I'm so sorry for what Pete just said..."

"Why, JJ? Isn't it true?"

"No, it is true," I said sheepishly," but..."

"But what?"

I made no reply except for a helpless gesture with both hands.

"God, JJ; Pete told me you were shy, but this takes the cake. I like you and would like to get to know you better. Is that such a terrible thing?"

"Ben," I stammered, and then my voice trailed off into nothing.

"Yes, JJ?" he said encouragingly, a wicked glint in his eye and a grin on his face.

"I don't know how to say this..." I said. There was a moment's silence which went on too long not to become awkward. In my frustration at not finding a way to express myself I mumbled, " Oh God, I hate myself!"

Ben came to my rescue. "JJ, let me guess at what you'd like to say. You have known for some time, maybe years, maybe since you were a child, that you prefer men to women, but you have never gone so far as actually doing anything about it, so you have never formed an emotional relationship with anyone - and that's why you're miserable. Am I right?"

"Yes," I whispered almost inaudibly. "How did you know?"

Ben laughed. "Because I just described myself," he said. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I admitted to myself that I was queer a long time ago, but have never had a sexual encounter - ever. I am not looking for searing, grappling, savage sex; in fact I don't want it. I'm looking for love. I'm looking for the right person. The moment I first saw you a couple of years ago, I sort of knew that person was you. I feel deep inside me that I could love you and cherish you. It would be very dishonest of me if I didn't tell you that having found Mr Right after all this time I just can't wait to become intimate with you. Now, JJ, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you are not attracted to me."

Through the doors of the conservatory came the muffled sound of the eternal record player. "All you need is love", the Beatles were admonishing me.

"I can't. That would not be true," I mumbled, my eyes fixed on some spot on the floor that had suddenly become terribly intriguing.

Ben moved closer and took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up till I was looking directly at him. His very touch was electrifying. "JJ, say the following out loud after me: 'Ben Carter, I love you and want you to be mine'."

"Ben," I said hesitantly, but all those years of holding back, of repressed instincts were taking their toll. Hell, why couldn't I just say it?

"Come on, JJ. Don't muck this up. You'll never forgive yourself if you do - and I'll never forgive myself for letting you slip through my fingers."

"Ben," I said again, "I... I want to... but I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"Because... because I'm afraid that if I get involved with someone, somehow or other it would get out, and that could ruin my career. I've just qualified as a lawyer and I want to set up a practice. No one would come to a lawyer who was a known ... a known ... homosexual." I found the word difficult to get out of my mouth. "What good would a lawyer be who was himself arrested and put in prison?"

"JJ, look at me." Ben's voice was so compelling that I did so. He was going to be one hell of a doctor: formidable. "I am just starting up as a doctor, and exactly the same could be said of me. Of course I cherish my privacy; of course I don't want the whole world and his wife to know that I'm queer. But, JJ, I'm not going to sacrifice my emotional happiness just because of this. We can be careful. We can work it out. I want you, I need you, more than anything else I've wanted since I've known myself. You must feel the same way about me, you must."

I said nothing, and felt miserable.

"JJ," said Ben very gently. "I understand your frustration, but I can't take it much longer and I won't live with this tension indefinitely. I'm going to count to three. If you haven't told me that you love me and want me by the count of three I am probably going to be very miserable for the rest of my life but I am going to leave this room and leave your life for good. Now, for both our sakes, don't fuck this up, JJ. Pete was right: we were meant for each other."

I so much wanted to tell him, but the words just wouldn't come.

"One," whispered Ben, almost to himself. "Two..."

I knew that Ben was right. I knew that if he let this golden opportunity pass I would be miserable for the rest of my life.

"Bencarteriloveyouandwantyoutobemine," I suddenly blurted out in one inarticulate cry.

"Thank God for that," said Ben with an audible sigh of relief. He took my hand in his and drew me closer to him.

"Now show me that you love me," he said very gently. He put both his arms around my shoulders in a bear hug and kissed me chastely on the cheek. "I love you, Sweetie; I know that I can love you with all my heart and for always," he whispered into my ear.

Now it was easier; at long last the dam had been burst. I put my arms around Ben's shoulders, returning the bear hug. Instinctively, and with closed eyes, my lips searched for his. Having found them I placed on them a gentle kiss. "I love you, Benjo; I love you with all my heart and I know I always will," I breathed onto those lips.

Suddenly Ben let me go. "Let's get out of here," he said. "We must get to know each other. Your place or mine?"

"My place isn't private," I said. I had a mental picture of me bringing Ben home to Mum: "Mum, this is Ben. He's my boyfriend. We're in love." The shock would kill her - if she didn't kill me first.

"Then it's my place. Let's go," he said. We slipped out of the garden exit from the conservatory, and made for the front of the house, hand in hand. We jumped into Ben's car and started off on our way to his apartment.


It was not a long ride, but for the first minute or so neither of us said anything.

"Are you hungry, Sweetie?" Ben asked me, obviously trying to make conversation.

"Yes," I replied, "- but not for food!" I amazed himself at this forwardness and could hardly believe that it was me who had actually said those words. They hung in the air for a moment, until Ben said, "We'll soon be there." Although it was dark in the car, I could hear, as it were, the smile in Ben's voice as he replied.

"How do you feel?" asked Ben, without taking his eyes off the road.


"Scared of me?"

"Yes and no. Benjo, I'm different from you."

"In what way, good heavens?"

"Well, I've never had sex with another man. I am a very private, very shy person. Would you believe that I have never yet let anyone see me completely naked?"

"Even in school?"

"Even in school. In the changing rooms I would hide myself in a corner where I could see and not be seen."

Ben put one hand reassuringly on my thigh, and I thrilled at the touch of the hand. "JJ, sweetheart," he said, "we'll work this out together. Stop worrying and try to trust me."

"Do you trust me, Ben?"

"JJ, I've hardly known you properly for half-an-hour, but I swear to you that I'd trust you with my life."

"I'll trust you then, Ben," I said, thinking how banal it sounded. What love can do to an intelligent person! After a moment's silence Ben took his hand from my thigh. "Don't take your hand away," I said, sheepishly, "it felt so good." Ben restored his hand. "Benjo, are you scared?"

"Scared - no; but also relaxed - no. I'm very excited and just a little bit apprehensive."

"What are you apprehensive about?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to know how we'll get on together. You know: the physical side of love and affection."

"Then why aren't you scared like me?"

"Because I am absolutely certain that love will see us through splendidly." Maybe he was just a little embarrassed at the turn the conversation was taking. Anyway, he fiddled with the radio which again gave forth "All you need is love". "How true," he said with a laugh and turned off the radio.

After about a fifteen minute drive he slid the car into a parking spot outside a large-fronted very old three-floored terrace house.

"This is where I live," said Ben. "The ground floor consists of two sets of offices; I use one set for my new practice, the other set is vacant - I'm trying to rent it out. The second floor is an apartment that is empty at the moment, and will probably stay that way: I shall need it one day soon for my library and study, and so forth. I live on the top floor. Come on, I'll show you."

We got out of the car and walked towards the front entrance. Ben took out a key and let us in, and the front door closed behind us. There was a light in the hallway. I could see a large desk and reception area ahead of us and two large doors leading off the hallway, one to the right and the other to the left. Ben opened the door to the left and ushered me in. It was a huge and spacious office, but Ben wouldn't let me look it over. He rushed me towards what looked like the doors of a closet at the far end of the room, but when he opened them it wasn't a closet at all, but an entrance that led to a staircase.

"I'll lead the way up," said Ben. "Remember it's three flights. Some time or other I'll explain about the set-up in this old house; for now, just follow me."

He began mounting the steep steps and I followed behind. Ben was wearing tight-fitting black corduroy slacks, and all the way up I was mesmerized by Ben's bottom undulating in front of my eyes, firm, round, inviting. I wanted to reach out and touch it. I felt an old familiar stirring between my legs.

When we got to the top of the third flight Ben opened another door, flicked a switch and took me by the hand. "Welcome to my home, Sweetie." He ushered me over the threshold and the sight quite took my breath away.

The apartment was furnished in a modern manner that was quite unexpected in this old house. The decor was unique: there was a wall-to-wall thickly-piled carpet that was absolutely and completely white; the armchairs and sofa were upholstered in black leather; and, I immediately noticed that there were no windows at all to this room!

"One rule I have for myself that I would ask you to respect as well, Sweetheart: for obvious reasons, I always take my shoes off before stepping onto the carpet. You can leave your shoes in that cubby-hole just inside the door." He began taking off his shoes, so I did so too. Then he took off his socks as well. "I take off my socks too since I love the feel of the carpet under my feet, but you don't have to if you don't want to." I didn't want to be different from Ben, so I took my socks off as well.

"Come on, let me show you round. I want you to feel at home here."

Off the spacious living-room to the left were two rooms. There was the open-plan kitchen with its dining area, and another fairly large room filled to overflowing with books and an enormous desk. Off the living-room to the right was a large bedroom with a king-sized bed in it. Ben took off his jacket and threw it onto a chair next to the bed and then yanked off his tie and threw it on top of his jacket. "That feels more comfortable," he said with a warm smile lighting up his face. Then he indicated a set of sliding glass doors leading off the bedroom: "In there there's a bathroom and shower. That's it! Be it ever so humble..."

"Benjo," I breathed, "this is magnificent. How did you come by this apartment and its furnishings?"

"I furnished it myself. My grandfather died last year. I loved him very much and I now know that he loved me very much. He left me this old house of his and a considerable sum of money. I used a small part of it to furnish this apartment and the rest is working hard for me in the bank. But that's enough about me! Right now, I think we both need a drink." We went back into the living room and Ben opened a small bar next to the stereo record player - the latest new-fangled Hi-Fi. "What do you drink?"

"I don't drink; but I think I'd better have one right now. Something strong enough to calm my nerves and give me courage!"

Ben poured me a drink and handed it to me. He sat down on the sofa with his drink, and I sat down nervously in one of the spacious armchairs.

"Sweetie, won't you come and sit next to me?" Ben asked invitingly. I was furious with myself for being so gauche. I put my drink down on a little side table and sat down next to Ben on the sofa. We were very close. I could feel the warmth coming from Ben's body as our thighs touched. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, since neither of us knew what to do next, how to make a first move.

"JJ," said Ben softly and hesitantly, "May I kiss you?"

"Yes please, Benjo," I whispered, hoarsely. We half turned to face each other and Ben drew my face towards his own and kissed me lightly first on my right cheek and then on my left cheek. As we parted Ben took hold of the back of my head in both hands and once again drew our faces together. He planted his lips directly onto mine and pressed hard. We began kissing ferociously, enjoying the taste of each other's lips. Then Ben tried to invade my mouth with his tongue. I let it in and we began a deep kiss - our first ever! When we came up for air Ben whispered, "God, that was good! I have been waiting all my life for that!"

He turned towards me and we looked intently into each other's eyes. Slowly, without breaking our gaze, Ben eased my jacket from off my shoulders. Then he hugged me tightly round the shoulders and kissed me again. I responded with excitement. Again Ben gazed into my eyes with a look full of love, passion and gentleness - a look that melted my insides and made me shiver with emotion. Ben did not stop gazing into my eyes as he gently yanked off my tie, threw it on the floor and unbuttoned the collar of my shirt.

"Now you will feel a bit more comfortable too," he said, but he was hardly able to control the trembling in his voice.

"Sweetie, let's get undressed," Ben said hoarsely; "I've been waiting for this for so long. I can't believe this moment's come. It's been my fantasy for more years than I can remember. I have lived this scene in my imagination hundreds of times."

"Darling, I want to. Believe me, I want to. But there is something we must clear up before this goes any further."

Ben looked at me, his eyes searching mine. "Tell me, JJ. Tell me, Sweetie, what you want to tell me. There is nothing that you could say that will change things for me. Believe me, whatever you are or have been, whatever you have done - nothing will make me feel any different for you than I feel right now."

"It's a long story and I haven't told anyone about this - except PR. It happened so long ago. Without PR then I don't know what I would have done. He was a rock for me. But it is so difficult. And every time I think about it the old emotions of pain, disgust and fear all come crowding back."

Ben shifted his position on the sofa so that he was lying down on it lengthwise on his back. Then he pulled me down next to him so that I was half lying next to him and half lying on my back on top of him. "Comfortable?" he whispered in my ear. I nodded. He placed both his hands over my eyes, shutting out the world. Again he whispered in my ear: "Talk to me. Tell me what happened. Let it all out."

And, slowly but with growing confidence, I told Ben what had happened all those years ago. He lay absolutely still, his hands covering my eyes all the time, as haltingly I told the story of a ten year old boy, innocent and unsuspecting, abused by a trusted member of his wider family. The feelings of self-hate, of revulsion. The boy's vivid memory of the pain of entry, of being savagely pinned down by an adult's weight so that he could not escape, the hand firmly over his mouth so that he could not scream. My voice trembled as I described for my beloved the feeling of humiliation as my clothes were torn from me, the dreadful agony of penetration, the revulsion at the hot breath breathed onto my neck, his hurting me and driving the breath from me as he thrust himself deeper and deeper, crashing his body savagely against mine. And then the utter feeling of ultimate disgust as his seed emptied into the innermost recesses of my body. Then I described the feeling of worthlessness, of being dirty, of self-hatred. There was no one that I could turn to except PR - a boy my own age. Peter, the rock of my life. PR holding me, cuddling me, nursing me back to some kind of sanity.

"And ever since I have tried to repress these memories, keep them away from my consciousness. It is only because with you I must be completely honest that I have recalled them," I concluded.

I waited for him to say something, but he said nothing. I felt a momentary panic. I turned over to face him and looked at him: tears were streaming down his face, silent tears. He drew me to him and we embraced. "Come to me, my sweetest man." His tears became sobs and I don't know then who was trying to comfort who. Both of us wept. And for the first time in my life I was weeping for the unhappiness of someone else. Something inside me was being wrenched at the thought of his weeping for me, his sadness for me.

Slowly, the catharsis of the weeping did its work and we stopped crying. I looked at him, and with a finger I wiped away the tears from his eyes. He did the same for me. I leaned forward and kissed him on each eye, tasting the salt of his tears. "Those are sacred drops," I whispered, "and I shall never forget the taste of them on my tongue." Then I kissed him on the mouth. Slowly, he let me in, drawing me to him as much as I was clinging to him. After many a long minute we fell apart.

"I love you so much, JJ, that it hurts. I will never let anyone hurt you again. Never"

"I am so sorry that I had to tell you that, my dearest love. I am so sorry for upsetting you, but you had to know that there are limits, that there are places that we cannot go, things we cannot do. There are things that I cannot give you."

"You have already given me more than I have ever hoped for. You have given me your love, Everything else is less than that, Sweetie - much, much less."

"But, Benjo, I would so much want to give you everything that a lover expects from his beloved - especially this one thing that I cannot give."

"JJ, sweetest man, love's not about receiving, love's about giving. Whatever you are able to give me with all your heart is what I shall cherish, and I shall never expect to receive what I know you cannot give. If I did I wouldn't love you. It's as simple as that. And, please, always, always call me Benjo."

"Benjo, if I cry again they'll be tears of happiness. Maybe, one day, when your love and your patience have taught me how to overcome these emotional scars, I'll be able to do with you all that I want us to do. Be patient with me. Love me as much as I love you. That's all I can ask. I have yearned all my life for you to come to me."

"And I'm here. And I'll never leave you. We're one. I know and understand that there is something that we cannot do and will never do until you want to. But there are so many other things that we can do to show our love and enjoy it. And, what's more," he added with a twinkle in his eye and in his voice, "we have unfinished business."

"What's that, my darling?"

"It's what I was saying before you told me your story."

"What was that, my angel. I've completely forgotten."

"JJ, let's get these clothes off."


Morning came. The proverbial morning after the night before. I knew it was morning because in the dark I could make out the time from the glow of the clock. There were no windows in my bedroom to let the light in to wake me up. I just woke up naturally. I slept the deepest and most satisfying sleep that I can remember since childhood and innocence. By my side the dearest person in the world still slept. We finally fell asleep clasping each other tightly. Somehow, during the night JJ had turned over, and I awoke to find myself lying behind him with one of my arms thrown over his chest. He was breathing slowly, contentedly.

I lay quietly, fearing to disturb his sleep. What a night! Love, passion, giving, receiving. We had both become almost delirious at the feel of the naked body of the beloved other next to ours. There was no part of JJ's body that I did not touch and carress a thousand times. There was no part of my body that he did not thrill ten thousand times - with his fingers, with his lips, with his breath, with his hands... For hours, it seemed, we pleasured each other, turn by turn. If this is paradise please, God, let me stay dead! I am in heaven and I never want to leave. I want to feel the gentle touch of his hands carressing me every night as I fall asleep next to his naked body; I want to be woken every morning by the gentle touch of his lips on mine as he rouses me from slumber. Well, maybe not every night. Every other night and ever other morning. Because just as much as I want to be loved by him I want to give him love. It is the giving that is the love.

JJ stirred. I knew he was awake, but he didn't move. Gently, I tried to remove my arm from his chest, but he put his hand over mine to keep it there. After a moment or two he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. I kissed his back showering kisses from his shoulders to the small of his back. He purred. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Don't stop." But I did stop and when he turned over our faces met. He kissed my eyes and then his mouth touched mine. We kissed. I could feel his member already rock hard pressing against mine, just as hard. And we started all over again, as if the previous night had never been. Love. Pure love, give and take, take and give: give what you take and take what you give.

After a couple of hours of delirious love-making I finally turned on the light.

"Good heavens, Sweetie! It's already half past eleven!"

"So? It's Sunday."

"I don't know about you, but I need to get up for three very urgent reasons."

"What are they?" he asked lazily.

"I need to go the the loo before my bladder bursts, or worse before I lose control all over you."

"OK. That should take you about ninety seconds and then you can get right back here."

"I also badly need a shower: I'm all sticky - and so are you, if the truth be told."

"Hmmm." Still lazily. "What's the third reason?"

"I'm starving. I haven't eaten anything but you since the party yesterday evening. You were very tasty and you were very filling, but I am still as hungry as a wolf for food of some kind."

I disengaged myself from him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What do I get if I get up?" my sweet one asked petulantly.

"I'll tell you what you will get if you don't get up," I said, laughing.

"What's that?"

I grabbed him suddenly by the hand and pulled him over my lap and gave him a couple of gentle slaps on his backside. "That's what you'll get," I said, both of us giggling.

He struggled up from my lap and pulled me by the hand. "Last one in the shower's a ninny," he said racing for the bathroom. I let him win and instead went to relieve my bladder. That done I joined him under the shower. Gently and lovingly we washed each other, feeling, carressing each curve of the body. We had never been so clean! We kept on soaping, lathering, and washing off until the water began to run cold.

I gave JJ some of my clothes to wear and we went into the kitchen. By now it was gone one o'clock. "What do you want to eat?" I asked.

He looked at me for a moment with an impish glint in his eye and said, "Fish and chips. And they only taste really right if they're eaten out of the Daily Mirror."

"Fish and chips it is then," I said, grateful that I didn't have to cook at that moment. At the door we put on our shoes and socks. As we went through the door JJ gave me a gentle slap on the butt. "What's that for?" I asked.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "I just couldn't resist. It's so - so inviting."

I laughed and turned around and kissed him. Then I led the way down the stairs to the next floor. This time we stopped and JJ looked around at the empty apartment. After a moment or two he looked at me and I looked at him and we both exclaimed simultaneously: "Yes!"

"It's the solution to everything, Benjo," said JJ excitedly. "You could rent the apartment to me and no one would be the wiser."

"I'm way ahead of you, Sweetie," I said. Not only shall you have the apartment, but you can have the other reception office downstairs for your law practice. We'll get a secretary to sit in the main hallway and serve both offices - your law practice and my medical practice."

We hugged each other in overwhelming excitement. In twenty-four hours our lives had been turned upside down. It was a miracle - and the person who had worked this miracle was Peter Rolls - PR, as JJ called him.

We stood in the hallway on the ground floor gazing into each other's eyes. Then we kissed, an embrace full of love.

"Benjo, I am so happy, so very happy. How long can this happiness last?"

"Sweetie, if we want it to it can last for ever."

"People will find out. PR is sure to find out."

"Our friends will help us preserve our privacy. As the Beatles teach us: we'll get by with a little help from our friends. Stop worrying, Sweetie."

"As long as you are with me I will fear nothing."

I took his hand in mine and we slowly walked down the hallway side by side as if we were walking down the aisle. At the front door we stopped for another kiss.

"Benjo, dearest, how long do you think we can maintain this set up?"

"JJ, darling, I don't know. Ask me that question again in thirty years time." I laughed.

"OK." JJ laughed too.

With that I opened the front door and we stepped outside into the real world, carefully putting our hands each into his own pockets, so that the world would never know what we were for each other. It was enough that we knew ourselves. We would wait in patient love for better times to come.

In the meantime - Fish and chips - here we come.

JJ & Ben respectfully request that you click here

Lord Chief Justice John Jeremy Lauder
Professor Benjamin David Carter FRCS

request the pleasure of your company at a celebration to be held on
August 5th 2002
at 132 Chaitham Terrace SW
(in the apartment on the 2nd floor)

The party is to celebrate the 35th anniversary of

JJ and Ben

Guest of Honour: Dr Peter Rolls FRCS

60's style music and dancing
No gatecrashers.

This story is copyright 2002 Neph, to whom all comments should be sent.

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