Summer
by Robert Symes
Chapter 2
This story is set in rural England in 1982. The cultural references are from that time and place so I hope that references to cars, TV shows or music won't spoil the story for those who don't know them. Follow the links provided for more information or just ignore them. (And yes, I know you can use a search engine just as well as I can. The links are for convenience, not to insult anyone.)
In some chapters controversial opinions will be expressed. Some are opinions I profoundly disagree with but I've tried to state them fairly, not parody them. It is this author's policy to have no opinions about anything, or at least not to state them. Any opinions you see on these pages are those of the characters or the site owner respectively and I neither endorse nor oppose them.
Alex and Jamie
After that first night with Alex at David's I woke early feeling happy but also unsettled. I had really 'crossed the Rubicon' now and there was no undoing what had happened. Not that I wanted to. If I had a magic wand that would erase the last forty eight hours and return me to Friday morning, but this time with no invite to David's for the night would I wave it? Not in a million years! But I still felt strange and... well... unsettled. I crept downstairs silently to avoid waking anyone.
The letter box clattered just as the kettle came to the boil. At least the paper boy was nice and early. I settled down with the Mail on Sunday and waited for the others to appear.
When they did we had breakfast and then agreed that we didn't know what time Mr and Mrs Porter would return and it was better if Alex and I were not there when they did. I think that was just an excuse all round. Really we all wanted time alone with our new (or new live-in) boyfriend. When we left David and Tony were still in dressing gowns not day clothes and I had a pretty good idea why. They looked like they couldn't wait for us to leave.
We went for a good long walk and talk in the forest. We had both enjoyed last night and definitely wanted a repeat but we also wanted time to process what had happened and how we felt about it. Since we were busy in the week with school and work we scheduled a 'date' for the next Friday evening.
Friday came around and I waited for Mum and Dad to go to the pub and then drew one curtain halfway across the front window to signal the coast was clear. Alex came around soon after, having parked a way up the road. We talked and then things started to get amorous. But I didn't want to do anything in the house. It wasn't likely that my parents would return unexpectedly but if they did, and caught us at it, the consequences didn't bear thinking about.
We got in the car and drove to a woodland car park, invisible from the road and deserted on a Friday evening. I had been missing Alex and remembering our activities all week and I went for him like a starving man at a banquet almost before he'd got the handbrake on.
He was equally hungry and we kissed passionately. But he broke the kiss and looked around anxiously as I started undoing his trousers. "Don't worry," I assured him, "no-one will be around at this time. And if they are we'll see them long before they can see into the car." I soon had his trousers open and his underpants pulled down inside them, exposing my target.
As I had done the first night, and before that learned from Dave and Tony, I held the base with my hand and just worked on what would fit comfortably in my mouth. I knew there was something called 'deep throating' but I wasn't willing to try that yet, I like being able to breathe. And I didn't need to. With my hand and my lips and my tongue I soon had Alex gasping and moaning with pleasure. It was such a joy to be able to give him that, to be wanted and needed so. I redoubled my efforts until I was rewarded with a mouthful of hot sperm and a very happy partner.
"Okay, your turn now" said Alex and I certainly wasn't going to argue. He unfastened my jeans and I impatiently pushed them halfway down my thighs. He leaned towards me and then froze. "Oh for..." He sounded really frustrated and angry with himself. After a few seconds the anger turned to dejection. "I'm sorry, I just can't. I keep remembering something from school last year and it puts me off. I can't seem to get over it."
"Why don't you tell me about it?" I suggested. "Perhaps it will help."
March 1981: Sixteen year old Alex Morton was in the fifth year at school, which he fervently hoped would be his last. He'd always been shy and quiet and not great at 'fitting in' which made a comprehensive school seem like a hostile, dangerous environment where he always had to watch his back.
He hoped to leave at the end of the fifth year but his parents would only allow that if he had a good job to go to. Unemployment was two and a half million already and rising rapidly and Alex would not be adding to it if his parents had any say in it so he could land a job with prospects or buckle down to sixth form and university to get qualified for one.
Today he had rushed his lunch as the careers teacher had asked him to come and see him in his office to discuss an opportunity. Two banks that had branches in the town had schemes to take on ambitious, intelligent sixteen year olds and give them on-the-job training and study materials to qualify for a real career. A lot of work and a very low wage at first, but even a low wage was better than nothing, the environment could only be better, and the rewards would come if he succeeded. Hence today's meeting, to start the application process.
Alex left the dining hall, went down the short corridor connecting it to the main building and turned right to go to the careers office next to the library. And almost walked straight into Paul Butler, Mark Adams, Vince Carter and Ron Powell who were hanging around, for some nefarious purpose no doubt. And who were probably the four boys Alex least wanted to meet, especially in a quiet place with no witnesses. They quickly moved to surround him. "Watch where you're going, Alice. You almost walked into me" said Vince. "Where you going in such a hurry?"
"I bet he'd like to get into you" sneered Paul. "Alice Mortal, queer of the year! Want to suck my cock then?" He grabbed his crotch and squeezed. Alex couldn't help looking, his attention drawn to the movement. "Look at him staring. He really wants it!"
"Where are you going anyway?" demanded Mark. "Meeting your boyfriend in the bogs [toilets] for a quick one?"
"No. I haven't got a boyfriend" Alex tried to talk his way out. "I'm going to the careers office. Let me go, I'll be late."
"Aww, didums!" laughed Paul. "Poor little Alice hasn't got a boyfriend to bum. No wonder he's always miserable." He shoved Alex hard in the chest. "Fucking poof!"
Alex stumbled back into Ron, who was behind him. "Look out mate, he's trying to get your cock up his arse" warned Mark.
"No I'm not. Just let me go!" pleaded Alex, who didn't know what else to do and wondered just how bad this might get.
An evil grin appeared on Paul Butler's face. He unzipped his fly. "Alright. Just suck me off and you can go."
"What?" Alex couldn't believe he'd heard that right. He'd come to terms with the undeniable fact that his attraction was to boys not girls. How the hell others had picked up on it he didn't know. It didn't occur to him that they hadn't , and were just assuming it because he was quiet and introverted and seemed weak. But the boys he was attracted to most certainly didn't include Paul who was an unpleasant character, fairly stupid and not even good looking.
The others assumed this was a joke and Paul would not really allow 'Alice' to touch him so they played along. They were grinning as Mark said "He said suck him off. Go on, get on your knees." He put his hands on Alex's shoulders and tried to push him down.
"No, I'm not doing that! Just let me go!" Alex was beginning to panic. Surely this wasn't serious? Even if he had fancied Paul he'd never done that , or anything else for that matter, he didn't know anyone who'd want to. And his first time was not going to be in a school corridor in front of an audience. He hoped. But he didn't know how to get out of this without some kind of unpleasantness, either that or getting beaten up most likely.
Just to make it worse, as Mark spoke James Dalton had come around the corner with his mates Matt Parker and Tim Collins and they stopped, adding to the audience. But they looked disgusted, not amused. "Butler and Adams, picking on the weakling again" sneered James. "Such heroes! Carter and Powell, fuck off! Now , if you know what's good for you." Such was his natural authority, and reputation, that they scuttled off, abandoning their friends.
Paul was getting nervous. "Come on Jamie, mate. We're just messing with the queer boy. It's just for laughs. I wouldn't let him do it, even though he probably wants to. He's just pretending."
"I'm not your mate. And I get my fun from girls, not making gay boys do stuff to me. And how do you know he's gay? Did he tell you? There's no-one like that round here."
"You can just tell. The way he is, the way he acts, he's got to be!"
"Maybe you can. I've heard they have an instinct to recognise each other. Way I see it you're calling him queer but you're the one asking for a blowjob and he don't want to give it you. He don't look queer to me he looks weak and scared but maybe you're seeing something I'm not. Or maybe you're just being stupid. So which are you then, Butler? Queer or stupid?"
"I'm not queer" muttered Paul, embarrassed.
"No, just stupid" James replied. "Well he's not either so leave him alone. If I hear you've been picking on him again you'll have me to deal with." He looked at Alex with something akin to pity. "You need to stand up for yourself, mate. He picks on you 'cos you let him. Smack the twat in the mouth next time. If you can't do that tell me, but the twats will never end and I won't always be here." He turned back to Paul and Mark. "But I am now, so watch yourselves."
As James walked off with his friends he was heard saying "Sorry about that, but I just can't stand to see that kind of thing. I can't wait to get out of this dump and go to work with my dad. Creeps like them don't last five minutes on the sites."
The 'creeps' looked chastened but defiant. Paul drew a finger across his throat menacingly. "Looks like you got a minder for now. But like he said he won't always be here. I will."
As Alex hurried off to his meeting he was just grateful the 'minder' had been there today when needed.
The 'minder' wasn't always 'here' in the sense of being physically present with Alex but he was in school and no-one wanted to get on the wrong side of him. So the bullying never again went beyond insults, low level hostility and the occasional shove. But it was relentless, demeaning, and Paul and Mark spread his reputation as 'Alice the queer boy' far and wide leaving him isolated by those who feared 'guilt by association' and even less confident and more introverted than before. Alex was thrilled to be accepted at the bank; leaving day couldn't come quick enough.
He thought he'd seen the last of them until one Saturday, months later, he'd been in town and noticed two young skinheads, his eyes drawn first to their 'bovver boots' and drainpipe jeans. He raised his eyes to their faces and felt sick when he recognised them. "Like what you see do you, Alice?" sneered Paul Butler. "Where's your minder now?" Alex panicked and ran for it, down the nearest alley into a small park (see Part One Chapter Fourteen).
"So, you see, whenever I think of doing that it reminds me of that day in school" Alex concluded. "I want to get over it but I don't know how. I just imagine having to suck Paul Butler in front of his mates... And it wouldn't surprise me if he's not very clean so I can't imagine what it might taste of. Well, actually I can, that's the problem because then I feel sick and I can't force myself to do anything with you and that's not fair because you're doing it for me but I just can't and I don't know what to do about it." He sounded really dejected and frustrated with himself.
I thought for a moment. "Maybe that's your problem" I suggested. "He tried to force you and now you're trying to force yourself because you think you owe me. You're internalising Paul Butler and bullying yourself and it's traumatic. No wonder you don't want to do it.
"And you don't owe me anything. I told you before; I do that because I like doing it, not for a quid pro quo. And I really don't want to be an unpleasant job you have to do. Let's just forget it at least for now."
"But I don't want to forget it" he said miserably. "I feel inadequate and I really want to give you that pleasure but I just can't. I know I'm probably getting on your nerves by now and I'm sorry but it's so frustrating. Any suggestions?"
I thought a bit more and then it came to me. I remembered something I read in a book. If you have a problem you don't understand do any part you do understand and then look at it again.
"Just play" I said. "Let's agree that you're probably not going to give me that today. And you don't have to, there's no pressure and certainly no bully trying to force you for a laugh. And I had a good wash before I left home so no nasties like that. So play, explore, kiss it, lick it, suck it, whatever you want and only what you want. Be curious and playful with it. And when you've had enough stop and use your hand, you're pretty damn good with that you know. And if you do get into it I'll warn you when I'm close and you can stop then. Does that work?"
"Let's find out shall we?" I had got hard again at the thought of him 'playing' so he held it with one hand, leaned down and kissed the head gently and quickly. Then licked up the length of it. "Okay so far..." Then he opened his mouth and put it inside. I felt his tongue teasing the head and then he pulled his head back, releasing me, looked up at my face, smiled and said "You're right, no bad taste at all. I don't know what I was so afraid of. This is fun!"
And then he got to work, sucking me properly, copying what I had just done to him I suppose, he couldn't have learned it anywhere else. And copying it well, it felt so good as he sucked and licked and squeezed the shaft with his lips. I'm not certain he was better than David had been, perhaps it just felt better because of who was doing it, but all too soon I gasped "Stop now, I'm almost there."
He ignored me and kept going. "Seriously Alex, stop it, I'm gonna... Oh... OH... Too late, sorry but I tried to warn you." The orgasm felt good... Well, alright, better than good. Absolutely fantastic, in fact, but tinged with guilt and nervousness; I hadn't meant to do that and I wondered how he'd take it.
Enthusiastically, as it turned out. He sucked the last of it off me, licked his lips and swallowed again, then grinned up at me. "I'm not! Sorry I mean. I wanted to get over myself and do that and I'm really glad I did. Thanks for the suggestion. And I have a confession. I've tried eating a couple of lots of my own stuff, just to get used to it, so I knew what to expect. Yours tastes better, though."
And that broke the barrier. Once he'd done it once there was never a problem with doing it again. He seemed to enjoy giving pleasure as much as I did.
The next 'taboo' or barrier was full sex of course. We were curious, nervous, and frankly a bit 'icky' about it. And we certainly didn't want to experiment in a cramped car in a public car park. But there was nowhere else. We decided, with some relief if I'm honest, to shelve that until such time as we had a spacious and private place with plenty of time to explore it. That turned out to be many weeks later, by which time we were becoming impatient. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
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