Towards the Decent Inn


By Michael Arram

Next day he saw Andy in the history common room. Their eyes met and Andy's lingered on him for a moment, and he came over.

'Did you get rid of that bloke OK?' Andy asked. He looked uncomfortable.

'Evil Steve? Uh, yes. The taxi driver and me had to wake him up and get him in the cab. I had to pay extra for him to take him home in case he threw up in the back of the car. Doubt if he'll remember much about it.' I wish I could say the same, Matt thought.

'Good... well see you, then.' Andy hesitated but then he took off quickly in the other direction.

Andy disappeared for the rest of the week, a very unhappy few days for Matt. He could not resist the idea that he was being avoided. His phone stayed silent, and he didn't have the nerve to ring Andy. The next Monday he was slumped in a lecture depressed and half asleep, and someone slid in next to him; it was Andy. Matt shot upright. Andy was taking notes busily. After twenty minutes or so, he realised that a piece of paper had been slid towards him. It said 'I want to talk. Park afterwards'. Matt's heart started beating hard.

Andy was loitering outside the theatre, and they walked silently across the road into the memorial gardens. Matt sat on a bench clasping his hands, like a child about to be told off by his headteacher. Andy stood in front of him peering at him, his eyes almost hidden by his whispy fringe.

Matt couldn't stand the silent treatment. 'I'm really sorry for what happened last week, honest.'

Andy continued to think about it, and finally said, 'I don't blame you Matt, how could I? But the thing is, when were you going to tell me you were gay? It's not as if isn't important, because I was really thinking of you as a friend, and I don't make too many friends. I'd like to have thought you trusted me.'

Thank God, thought Matt, it's not disgust that made him back away from me, just pique. 'No ... it's not like that,' he responded hesitantly, wondering how to repair the damage. 'I think of you as a friend too, really. I guess I... was going to tell you... eventually. Honest.'

'Cool down, Matt, it's trust that's the issue. Believe it or not, you're not the first gay guy I've met. I went to an all boys school, remember. And there were one or two moments ... anyway, we had a few very strange teachers. I really am not bothered about your orientation, honest. It is not a problem. Does Leo know?'

'Leo's engagement with reality is fitful. He can be very observant on the level of flowers, grass and trees, but not people. That's why he's a bad poet. I think the girls I was with in hall may have sussed it. Katy certainly has.'

'Look, what I'm saying is, I really do like hanging out with you ... I want to be friends. You've cheered me up loads this year, you're funny and you're OK. Just be more open with me. Trust me. It's worth it. So how about swimming tomorrow?'

Matt paused with his mouth hanging open, then collected himself and grinned like the sun coming out. 'If you're sure, Andy. I might not be able to help myself in the showers.'

Andy smiled at the joke, much to Matt's relief. 'I'm very willing to risk it. Shake?' They shook hands. Matt noticed that Andy's grip was strong and he took his hand without hesitation. But he resisted the temptation to give the boy a hug.

The pool was just the same, a few bobbing grey heads and a bored lifeguard walking the side. Andy was beginning to work on Matt's swimming confidence. He was getting him to float horizontally. This involved holding Matt up with a hand on the small of his back. Matt thought intently about the funeral of Queen Victoria in hopes of keeping any erection in check. It worked. It also helped concentrate on the floating. Again he noticed that Andy didn't have any problems touching him. He was impressed by the coolness.

They had their hour, showered nonchalantly, their eyes anywhere else but on each other, changed and adjourned for a coffee in the rest area. Matt didn't suggest his own house this time. But on Thursday, he did, and Andy cheerfully followed him back. In the end they stayed together all afternoon in just the same way as before, watching the telly, joking and reading. Andy seemed as much at home as he had done before: making free of the fridge and fixing them drinks. On Friday, they met up with Leo and some others at the Union for a concert. It was a good night. Better than that. After a late night Indian, Andy missed the bus home, and readily agreed when Matt suggested that he stay over. Andy's blue eyes twinkled as he laughed, 'Yeah, and keep to your own bed.'

Matt laughed uneasily, Andy's joke was a little too close to one of his best fantasies. 'Look. If you're uncomfortable, and you think people'll talk, I'll understand. I can give you some money for a taxi. No problem and I won't be insulted.'

Andy gave him a really enchanting smile; almost secretive, he thought. 'I trust you Matt, I know you're a good mate.'

They sat in the kitchen over a late drink. A cat was squalling out the back garden but otherwise it was uncannily quiet, without even the distant rumble of city traffic. Andy seemed in a curious mood, curious about Matt's inner life, anyway. He fixed his blue eyes on Matt and, without beating about the bush, asked: 'When did you know that you were gay?'

'You mean, when did other boys start giving me erections?'

'That's my Matt, straight to the nub, in a manner of speaking.' Andy gave a soundless and theatrical snigger.

Matt was struck by the possessive adjective Andy had just applied to him. He cherished it in his head for a moment: 'my Matt'... he liked it, although it gave him a harsh pang of frustrated sexual desire. He desperately wanted to be Andy's Matt in every way possible.

He frowned and thought out an answer to what was a difficult and intrusive question. But it did not occur to him to tell Andy to mind his own business, which he would have done had anyone else asked it: 'It was in school. I must have been in Year 10 when it began to be a real problem. I started getting crushes on a certain type. God, I was a moonstruck idiot... literally. There was this guy at school called Peter Day when I was fifteen, his ass was unbelievable. I'd just live in hopes of his naked bum coming into view in the changing rooms, I couldn't look away and I'd break out in a cold sweat. If anyone had ever noticed I would have had the crap beaten out of me. Oh, sorry...,' it suddenly occurred to him that Andy might be a bit disgusted with this sort of confession, '... you did ask though. Is this a bit more than you want to know?'

Andy looked at him blankly, 'Well I did ask, Matt, and I can't complain now you've answered. It's OK, I'm not shocked or anything. I just wanted to know, that's all.'

Matt resumed, 'In retrospect I know with the wisdom of nineteen years that poor Pete was just a thick snot. A thick snot with wide shoulders, a tight bum, a perfect oval face, gorgeous auburn hair and big hazel eyes, true, but I doubt he could string two sentences together. That's the thing about libido, it doesn't find a capacity for abstract thought at all sexy. Damn, I can see him now. I still get fantasies of him – or at least the way he was then. Now he's a management trainee with McCains and he got one of my cousins pregnant last year. We may end up related, would you believe. How about that for cosmic irony?'

Andy finally was looking uncomfortable, and indeed his face had blushed an unusual pink. Matt took the hint and raced on with his self-analysis, 'So my desires were my big secret. I was never lucky enough to meet anyone who could help. As for my parents... it's just not within their radar. You should hear my dad on the subject.'

'What was the certain type you fixated on?'

'D'you really want to know?'

'Well, yes. I might be able to fix blind dates, sort of thing.'

'Appreciate it. If you must know, it was the unemotional sporty type in general.'

'Right. I recognise them. Matthew White scale: Type 1 Alpha males. The men you could never talk to, however much you fancied them. Poor Matt. It's a pity you don't fancy men like me.' Andy flicked his thick fringe of hair out of his eyes, 'Knowing you were gay, why didn't you go to Gaysoc here?'

'I thought about it. But with my background, I've gotten used to concealing my preferences. I got as far as taking a leaflet from the Union, but I was wetting myself in case anyone saw me do it. I nearly bought a copy of Gay Universe once, but I was scared who would notice at the newsagents and that the lady on the till would sneer at me. Also, there's the camp thing.'

'The camp thing?'

Matt grinned and deepened his voice, 'Well, yeah. I don't think I'm camp, y'know what I mean. You don't think? No? Good. But so many TV gays seem a bit limp, and have you seen the Gaysoc people when they leaflet the Union? Terrifyingly fashion conscious and big into high laughs, chrome studs and tattoos. It's not me, and I don't want it to be me.' He sat quiet for a moment. 'Then there's the promiscuity. I know there's a side to gay-dom that is into multiple partners and the wild life. Leaving out the risk of Aids and other infections, I'm not attracted by the morality of it. If I've got to be gay – and I don't seem to have any choice in the matter – I want to be a monogamous gay.'

'It does you credit,' approved Andy.

'You think?'

'Definitely. Morality is good.' Andy gave a firm and supportive look, and again there was that fetching twinkle in his blue eyes. Matt loved the boy more than ever. He was not Pete Day, but he had a quiet appeal of his own, and his big eyes and his little boy face were so damnably sexy. It was making his heart ache.

But he laughed appreciatively, 'That's very affirming, Andy. So I keep away from the openly gay groups, don't go near the King's Cross, and live a lonely but pure life. No choice really. The strategy I've adopted means I don't get to meet many people who are out of the closet. Steve was my biggest adventure to date, and look how that turned out.'

'It sounds a little sad.'

'I don't mean it to be. But we make our choices and live in hopes. One day my prince will come.'

Andy looked at him with something approaching compassion, he thought. 'I hope so,' he said with feeling. 'You deserve it.'

Matt was touched at the sympathy. He just wished Andy was able to offer more, for the fantasies were just as bad as they had ever been. Indeed they were worse, for now Andy at least knew what he was, and that was a bridge that no longer needed to be crossed.

Andy slept on the old sofa. Matt manfully restrained himself from encountering his guest in any place where he might put himself into temptation. Unfortunately, in the morning, after his shower, he was shaving, undressed, when the door opened. There was no lock, and he caught Andy's surprised face in the mirror as he got an unobstructed view of Matt's naked rear.

'Oh! Sorry mate!' Andy said, giving him a look Matt could not interpret. Then he smiled, a little sheepishly.

Matt had to grin back through the shaving cream. It was too late to cover up with a towel. He felt very exposed and was blushing under the foam. 'Be finished in a minute. By the way, there's no lock. You have to sing loudly when you're in here.'

'Yeah, I'll remember that.' Andy then surprised him by coming in anyway, asking if he minded, and emptying his bladder into the toilet apparently quite unselfconsciously. He was wearing a tee shirt and boxers. Matt kept his eyes to himself and did not look down, instead he concentrated on finishing his shave damned quick. He assumed that Andy's lack of selfconsciousness was public school thing, although later he was not so sure. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his middle before going off to get dressed and lay out his meagre breakfast stores.

Matt continued to feel a little sad, and an undercurrent of loneliness flowed through his life, despite the fact that he was not without good friends. One day soon after, observing a rather beautiful boy and girl oblivious in their passion to the world around them, he found himself almost in tears. He so wanted what they self-evidently had, but there seemed little chance for him, from the choices he was making. Life did not seem fair. But he fought the self-pity, as he knew he must. The sexual desire he countered the usual way, with the help of a lot of tissues. One night he masturbated three times in succession, the urge was so powerful. He felt as though he'd been kicked in the testicles by the time he was drained.

He soldiered on, feeling almost a contempt for his own love of Hollywood happy endings and feel-good moments as he sought relief in his video collection. He began to refer to it as his emotional masturbation. The happy ending was something he discussed with his mother in his weekly phone call. He half-suspected that he got his taste in movies from her. Her argument was that life was full enough of unhappiness that you couldn't escape. What was the point of watching films and reading books that dwelled on it? You'd only get depressed. It was as futile as pushing at an aching tooth with your tongue.

He felt obliged to argue the point, that the human condition needed to be experienced fully and examined. With understanding came growth. Nietszche said that what did not kill you strengthened you.

'Happy soul then, was he, this Nietszche?' asked his mum. Matt felt somehow that he'd lost on points.

'Are you alright, Matty?' she went on.

'Yeah mum, fine. Honest.' She didn't sound convinced as he rang off.

'Of course she's right,' said Andy, when he aired the same idea. 'What has the human race done for tens of thousands of years but seek escape through stories and drama, amusement and jokes. It's a natural response to the fact that shit happens. We defy it by refusing to think about it, or, to interpret it another way, we run away from it. But it's not cowardice, it's pragmatic. And when you think about it, human stories can be more powerful than reality, because we so want them to happen. What's religion if it's not that?'

Matthew White, former altar boy of the Church of the English Martyrs, Northampton, was not quite willing to go that far, so he changed the subject.

The next week, almost as a judgement, there came an incident, the defining incident of his life. Matt always swore to himself later that he was innocent of premeditation. But maybe the narrative of his life meant that it just had to happen. He and Andy had been in the pool. They were standing dripping in the otherwise empty locker room. He'd dropped his trunks under a bench when he was changing next to Andy; he knelt down to pick them up and looked up just as Andy turned towards him. He was suddenly on his knees, eye-to-eye, so to speak with Andy's penis. He looked up and saw Andy stock-still looking down. He shot up, but now found himself well within Andy's personal space and face to face, their bodies only an inch or two apart. His penis was actually brushing Andy's midriff and it instantly began enlarging. Matt flushed red.

'Uhh. My God. So sorry.'

Andy stood frozen with a most curious expression on his face, the same as he had seen on it when Andy had walked in on him naked in the bathroom. But he realised this time what it was. It was hunger mixed with fear, and as soon as he recognised it, Matt knew that anything was now possible. He saw that Andy was trembling just like he was. Instinct took over, since his mind had signed out: he had gone light-headed with desire. His right hand placed itself on Andy's flank. The skin was cool and smooth and Andy did not stop him. Of its own accord, his hand moved slowly down, followed the script of his erotic fantasies and cupped a buttock, tracing its contours slowly.

The hell with it. Matt pulled into him, and Andy responded, as by now Matt was quite sure he would, his arms snaking round his back, clasping him hard and caressing his own rear. It was like an electric shock up his spine as Andy's fingers lingeringly explored the cleft between his buttocks and stroked downwards to a spot only his mother had ever touched, and that many years before. He was shaking, and felt the other boy's heart hammering against his own as they crushed together. The blue eyes in front of his were passionate. Their lips worked sensuously together, and Matt did what he'd been longing to do, and pushed as far as he could into the warmth and wetness of Andy's mouth, exploring it and licking at Andy's own tongue. The other boy responded, and not just with his tongue; his erection was hard against Matt's own.

Conscious of being very exposed in an public place, they reluctantly separated.

'Uhh, wow,' Matt said intelligently.

Andy looked at him with a level gaze, but his speech was hurried and almost incoherent. 'Thank God. This is all I've been thinking about for weeks.'

'Jeez. You're a bloody cool one aren't you? Why didn't you do it?'

'I... I was never sure you wanted me. You wanted someone I know, but you never said it was someone like me. I'm not Andy the alpha male...' As if in reaction, he laughed softly, 'I'm no Pete Day, am I?'

'No, but my God you're so very desirable.' He reached up and brushed Andy's hair from his face, and kissed and caressed his cheek.

Andy groaned with frustrated lust, 'Sod. Me desirable? But you're... Christ you're so beautiful, every part of you, even your dick... especially your dick. Oh God, oh God, I just want to touch you, but don't you think we'd better get dressed, at least till we get back to your place?'

Matt's heart leaped, danced and sang. So Andy wanted him as badly as he had wanted Andy. They reluctantly separated and quickly dried themselves with their towels, but neither now tried to hide the evidence of his deep sexual arousal. Andy stared fixedly at Matt's manhood while it was still visible. As he was pulling on a trainer, Matt turned round on Andy. 'You told me you were straight!'

'No I didn't.'

'I remember you saying it.'

'Actually, all I did was ask you if you were gay. I never said anything about me.'

'So who were you to lecture me on trust then?'

'Yes, I know. But I was still working my feelings out. No, seriously. Look at you and look at me. How could I imagine that a guy who looks like you do and is as cool and funny as you are would have the hots for an insignificant little prick like me? I still can't believe it now. I really wasn't sure of anything, except I wanted you so bad. I do... I really do think you're fantastic.' A warm bomb exploded somewhere behind Matt's navel.

'It's beginning to look like Fate, or telepathy. I just suddenly had this unmistakable feeling that you wanted me, wanted me as much as I wanted you.'

'So you were right, and thank God you did it. I've been wasting time while you've been playing the gentleman.'

'We'll make up for it, Andy. Believe me. I just didn't know what you were feeling about me. You were so collected and together.'

'My problem. The public school poise.'

They finished dressing and walked briskly and all but wordlessly back to the house, shyly glancing at each other from time to time. Matt's mind was full of excitement, anticipation and nervousness. He was a virgin and he was fairly certain that Andy was too, so lack of protection wasn't a problem. His nervousness was in part because of his inexperience and fear of disappointing Andy, and in part because he only had a general idea of how men made love to each other. Some of what he had picked up in pubs and on the internet was a little scary, although he was determined that he was going to go through with it. It was a pity he couldn't ring Steve for advice at this point. He wondered uneasily if he had anything in his house that could be used as a lubricant, which he realised must be essential for what he had in mind that men do, and what he wanted to do with Andy. But far greater than his fears was his urgent passion, and he had hopes that his passion would educate him.

When they got to the end of Finkle Road, Andy suddenly shouted, 'Run!' and they sprinted laughing up to Matt's door. The fear and tension went as they tumbled together into the hall and into each other's arms. Matt kicked the door shut behind them, as their clothes began to come off. The rest followed naturally. It was Wednesday. They didn't emerge again till Friday morning, by which time they had discovered many new things about the limits and possibilities of the male anatomy.

Matt collapsed on to Andy's back, slick with sweat and gasping, his heart pounding and his hair fallen in his eyes. He lay there half-crushing the uncomplaining body beneath him for a while until his penis subsided and slid free of Andy, who was touchingly reluctant to let it go. He kissed his lover between the shoulder blades and on the cheek as he rolled his weight off him. They lay side by side in his tumbled bed.

They were lovers. Matt was in an erotic haze, and was beginning to wonder how to take up normal life again. They stared at each other's faces. Matt admired the veined delicacy of Andy's eyelids, almost blue, and the pallor of his eyebrows and lashes, so very different from his own dark brows. He pulled Andy against him and folded him close. He kissed the pale golden hair, and the pink scalp beneath it. He loved the scent of him in his nostrils. Andy pressed contentedly against him, his mouth searching for Matt's left nipple, his teeth teasing it. Matt's body shuddered involuntarily. Andy was learning what were his switches to pull. His desire to please Matt in any way he could was his passion, he was calling it 'Advanced Matt-erotics'.

The sex had been uninhibited and intense. Andy was as generous and enthusiastic a lover as he could possibly have dreamed of. He had denied Matt nothing of himself and Matt had taken all he had offered, caressing, exploring and penetrating, and when he was spent, welcomed the same attentions from Andy. They were both inevitably clumsy, but they were gentle boys and nervous of causing each other undue hurt. Very soon their bodies got used to the demands they made on them.

Their first days of love-making were a revelation, not just physical, but emotional. Both lying exhausted in the dead of night with the city silent outside, Andy had done an unexpected and solemn thing. He got up on his elbows and in the dim light of the street lamp outside the bedroom began whispering close to Matt how he had given him a gift of love and tenderness he had never experienced, and had never thought to experience, from another human being. His warm tears dripped on to Matt's bare chest. It was as if a dam had broken in the boy's heart. Matt couldn't find words to respond; he just held him tight and stroked his hair, still smelling faintly of chlorine. It fixed Matt's love irrevocably on the boy sharing his bed. It was no longer mutual lust that linked them.

It was Friday. 'Andy.'

'My Matt?'.

'Should I call you “babe” or “darling” or something really gay like that?'

'I'd rather you didn't. “Babe” sounds like you want me to go rounding up sheep. My mum never calls me “darling” in fact she only ever calls me “Andrew”. Let's just see what feels natural, OK?

'OK, Andy love. Let's go get some milk and stuff.'

Andy rolled his eyes, kissed Matt on the mouth, broke the kiss lingeringly and got up and went in search of his clothes, last seen two days before and eventually located in the hall and odd corners of the stairs and landing. Matt got up and padded off to the bathroom. He found some fresh boxers of his own for Andy, who got very aroused again at the idea of putting on his underwear.

'Fantastic. I really am in your pants now.'

Dressed, they emerged blinking and feeling strange into the morning sunshine in search of the supermarket. Their bare feet were shoved into their trainers.

As they walked slowly back from the shops, Matt asked, 'What you going to do about your lodgings?'

'Is that an invitation to move in?'

'You're not going to leave me ever again. No way.' Then Matt realised there was one thing he had not yet properly said, but which must be said. He stopped on the quiet street, and regardless of who might have been looking, he took Andy's hand in his, caressed it and lifted it to his lips to kiss. 'I love you forever Andrew William Peacher of Nuneaton in the county of Warwickshire, and we must never part. It is so written.'

'And I love you too, you soft sod.' He laughed, kissed Matt's own hand, and then looked a little more serious. 'I really do love you, Matthew Anthony White, and it is my solemn vow that we must never part. But so far as where I live is concerned, I rang up the landlord on Wednesday night. He thinks I've gone back to mum's. It may not be easy giving him notice, he's expecting me to stay till at least Christmas. Hope he didn't notice I'd not taken any clothes, let alone toiletries. He's one of mum's genealogical pals. Questions may be asked.'

They didn't undress when they got back, for which Matt was a little grateful. It may have been an unseasonably hot October but it was cool when the sun was off the front of the house. You couldn't stay on the heights of sexual passion for ever. Still, they worked hard at it for much of that night. Neither could get enough of the other.

Tousled and blissfully happy, they sat facing each other across the breakfast table on Saturday. Andy had gelled his hanging fringe right back, and Matt could see his boyish face fully now. His lover might not be particularly handsome, but there was certainly something appealing, even moving, about him. Maybe it was his secret little smile, which when it appeared was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, it lit up everything round him, especially Matt. 'So when did you know you were gay?' Matt asked.

'It wasn't so easy for me to work out as for you. I went to an all boys' school, and never met many girls. Also I was a bit isolated as a day boy in what was mostly a boarding school. But when I first saw you close up, when I was opposite you in that awful first seminar, that was definitely it. I just looked and looked, and I followed you down the corridor afterwards just so I could stare at your fantastic bum; you were wearing your cream-coloured zip sweater and denim flairs, and you were an angel come to earth. Wow, you were so handsome and way so cool. Uhh... and I have to confess that I followed you to the library that day and into the department. I was infatuated. But I gave up when you nearly caught me when you came unexpectedly out of the loo. But after that I seemed to see you everywhere; it was like Fate...'

Matt interrupted, looking a little embarrassed, 'Andy, I've also got a confession...' He told him the truth. Andy stared at him, and then laughed uncontrollably.

'You devious... I love it. I stalked you! Then you stalked me! And there was me unable to believe my luck when I met you on the way to the pool that morning. So that's how I got to see you without clothes on! I had such a permanent erection in the water I was using it as a rudder; I'm surprised you never noticed. I didn't dare look at you when you were standing there undressed, it would set me off... you were all I could think and dream of. My God. And now you're all mine.' He gazed with unaffected admiration at his blushing lover, 'You're perfect in every detail. And your skin's so flawless and brown: I checked thoroughly last night, there's not a single mole anywhere on your body.'

Matt gave a small smile. 'It's the pint of Clearasil I drink every morning.'

'Do you know why I hesitated after the Steve incident?'


'The truth is, I couldn't really believe deep down that a man like you could fancy a semi-albino midget with spots and stick legs, like me. It was a relief when I discovered what a crappy swimmer you were. It made you more human and I felt like I could talk to you without wetting myself. But when I did get to know you all you could talk about was this god, Pete Day, whom I hate and whom I will track down in Northampton and sneer at. The stupid kid has no idea what he missed out on in that changing room.'

'So that's why you blushed. That's so sweet. You were jealous of my fantasy.'

'Sweet? Desperate, you mean. I really hoped you would climb into bed with me when I stayed over, but you didn't. Then I thought you would make a pass at me in the bathroom that morning when I caught you in the nude. I was so much hoping that you'd grab me when I stood next to you for a pee, that I was trembling. But you didn't make a move. I was depressed when you let it pass, I just thought you didn't find me attractive enough.'

'It's ironic. If only you'd known what I was really thinking. I had to disappear fast out of the bathroom that morning because you were giving me another hard on. You have your attractions, and if you don't believe me just ask my penis. It's your greatest fan.

Andy, I wanted you from the moment I first saw you in the pool, but I was never sure what you wanted, never sure whether you were a gay or a straight, and I was afraid you'd banish me for good if I put a foot wrong. And you're gorgeous, believe me. Your slim body, your eyes and that golden hair. And then there's your smile. It's just... can't think of another word, enchanting. I love everything about you: your angry zits; your little toes; the funny way you wriggle when I lick and suck them; the pale head of your dick, and the way it tastes; the fantastic Andy smell between your arse cheeks... I really do mean everything.'

Andy smiled, enchantingly, 'You make me sound like a happy and oversexed yeti. Anyway. There were hints earlier on, when I think back. There was a boarder called Cameron in Year 10. He was very keen on me, and we necked a bit, tongues and all; he touched me up in the woods next to school. I didn't object, but we never went further and he left school before his GCSEs. It turned out he'd been sleeping with the boys in Year 8, and his housemaster had found out. I felt a bit pissed about that, being small and all. Maybe he had a height fetish. Hey! Are you kinky about little guys, Matt? Is this what it's all about?'

Matt laughed, 'You're only four inches shorter than me, and you've got it where it counts, between your legs. I certainly knew it when you were inside me that first time.' He shifted in his chair as his backside forcibly reminded him precisely how Andy had entered him and stolen away his virginity.

Andy gave a smug look. 'Anyway, since there wasn't much chance to hang round girls, I never knew for certain until recently. I thought I was just waiting for some sort of sexual cue. Turns out it was you all along.'

Matt smiled, 'So I was your prince? That's sweet.'

'Yes. You are my prince. And now, don't you think that we'd better get dressed and get to the library? Can I borrow a clean tee-shirt off you? Real life wants us back again, and I at least have missed a lecture and a seminar.'

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