1: Straight Boys Get It Straight

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I pretty much enjoyed high school in the late seventies and eighties. There were moments of excitement like blizzards, power-cuts due to miners’ strikes, and fuel shortages that made them close the school building – forcing us to have classes in a small community centre two days a week. There were some notable firsts, as well: first time getting drunk, first crush, first kiss, first time trying dope. It was also a lot of effort and I suppose I got some solid outcomes from it – ten ‘O’-Levels, three ‘A’-Levels, and a girlfriend. The latter was important to me because, once I’d knobbed her, I was indisputably a man. That rite-of-passage was a big deal to me at the time, but I’m not going to go into the details because… it was kind of awkward, disappointing, and over far too quickly to even get a paragraph out of. The best thing about it was that it was concluded successfully and I was nominally successful – rather like my ‘A’-Levels, in fact.

If bonking a girl was an exam in 6th form college, I would have squeaked by with a grade of “E” and probably been turned down by any University or Polytechnic that required it. Luckily, it wasn’t and my other scores got me into college, though not anywhere that could be described as ‘prestigious’. I got accepted to Sheffield Poly doing a Maths Education course. It was something to look forward to that summer after my exams, but I had to get the summer over with first, and I had some work to do on that front.

First, my eighteenth birthday party had to happen. That was a given. I got blotto – obviously – and while it was a lot of fun and I’d love to tell the stories… I can’t remember a fucking thing beyond drinking three Purple Nasties. (Recipe: a can of Carlsberg Special Brew, 1/3 pint bottle of Barley Wine, a bit of blackcurrant juice for the purpleness, and topped off with scrumpy cider all in a 20 oz. pint glass). First one went down in about forty seconds because I wasn’t anyone’s idea of a competitive-drinking champion. Second one took a few minutes – hey, I’ve gotta breathe, y’know – and the third one was a leisurely sipper while I slowly lost gross-motor control, as demonstrated by my pathetic attempts to remain vertical on the dance floor.

In addition to losing my balance, composure, dignity, and dinner, I also lost my girlfriend that night. I was assured by my friends that it wasn’t just because of my helpless state of inebriation, though that probably helped, but instead it was because of some cunt whose name I don’t even remember being way more suave with Sarah than I was.

I hope she ended up with a better fuck than I did, because the only ‘fucked’ I got was in the head. My dad’s hair-of-the-dog remedy the next day was bacon, eggs, half a pint of Guinness with a dash of Worcestershire Sauce in it (for some godawful reason), and… a camping trip.

About the only one of my friends who wasn’t also hung-over, and begging for death when I called them, was a kid called Nic who lived down the street. He only agreed to come along after I pleaded with him. I was motivated by the fact that a weekend of hiking up by Kielder Water was about as exciting as the grave and I needed someone to keep me company. I apologised for not inviting him to my do because it was mostly school friends, and he’d gone to a different Sixth Form than I had, but I downplayed it as a bit of a disaster so he wasn’t too offended.

We hooked up the caravan – an aged Buccaneer four-berth – and Dad drove us to a site at the near-end of Kielder Dam. It was a decent campsite with a shower block and a few good walks from it. The healthy outdoor activity blew away my cobwebs and by about four in the afternoon, I was feeling human again.

We took a stroll before dinner. I’d skipped lunch, so I was feeling a mite peckish, but Dad said it’d be an hour before he even thought of doing any cooking, so we decided to kill the time. His plan was to sit in the van, read, do a crossword of the sort he never, ever finished, and drink a couple of cans while he contemplated eating. Nic and I hoisted a tin each of some horrible slop from the fridge that at least had a reasonable alcoholic content: McEwans Export.

We wandered around, searching for a good place to sit and sip our illicit ales. We found a fire-break between the trees that led up a hill and afforded a decent view of the reservoir. Finally, we plonked ourselves down and I distributed the provender from within the poacher-pockets of my Barbour, while also pulling out my pack of tabs. I offered Nic one as I lit my own. He declined.

“Your parents know you smoke?”

“Not officially. Then they’d have to say something. Mam has a pretty good idea, though. She saw me out of her bedroom window one time, lighting one as I was walking to the Metro station. I got bollocked for that, but… she never actually told me I couldn’t. My grandpa smokes like a fucking chimney. Sixty-a-day. My two or three hardly compare.”

He shook his head as he opened his can. It fizzed over. “Sorry – pockets,” I said. escort yakacık I sat mine down and tapped the top a few times with a fingernail, then opened it. It didn’t fizz excessively.

“How did that work?”

“I don’t know, but if I had to guess it’s something to do with compression waves that cause the carbon dioxide to be dissolved back into solution,” I bullshitted. It was a valuable trick I’d learned from Physics class. Not preventing can-fizz… making up utter nonsense that sounded feasible.

He laughed. “I did French, English, and History for my ‘A’-Levels. I don’t know science. What did you do?” We hadn’t really been close friends over the last couple of years – more so when we’d been younger. We had some catching up to do.

“My girlfriend, mostly. Oh, plus some Maths, Physics, and German. Did Art for a year, but I dropped it because there was just too much work… and I wasn’t very good at it.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Nic asked, surprised.

“Not any more. Bitch dumped me last night. I think we had an argument. Can’t fucking remember. You?” I asked him.

“A couple, but they never lasted.” He took a slurp of beer and let out a burp. “Wasn’t really into them.”

“You mean you didn’t fuck ’em? That kind of ‘not into’?” I teased.

He shook his head. “There’s just something about licking a pussy that…” He shuddered and sighed. “Not my kind of thing.” He looked at me, furrowing his brow. “You ever find that?”

“Definitely not. I mean – I can’t stand pubes in the back of my throat – but pussy’s great.”

He shook his head. “Pubic hairs! I about gagged first time I got one of them in my mouth. Eurgh. Not my…” He stopped before repeating himself.

“I liked it when she came, though,” I remarked, thoughtfully. “The only problem is, you can never be sure if it was real or if she just wanted you to stop.”

We had a laugh at that.

“Exactly!” He agreed. “With a dick, you always know it’s real.”

I took a drag of my smoke. “So… are you saying you prefer dicks?” I teased.

The silence that followed was embarrassingly long.

“I’m just joking,” I said when it became uncomfortable. “I’m not saying you’re a puff, or anything.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “If I was, I’m not sure how I’d take that.”

“Ah, man, Nic – I’m just pulling your leg,” I said, brushing it off. He quietly sipped his beer. “Seriously?” I asked. “I mean… that’s fine if you are.” I felt a flush of heat within me. I was probably blushing, but that didn’t occur to me. I was… excited.

I’d never met anyone who admitted to being gay. I got the distinct impression that Nic was hiding something, and the prospect fascinated me. I really didn’t have anything against gay lads, but there was an unfamiliarity and an intriguing air to the whole idea. What was that like, to feel attraction to someone of the same sex? How did it work in one’s mind?

“Are you?” I asked him, pressing the matter.

He turned a bit to face me. “What would you say if I was?”

I shrugged. “I’d ask what it’s like.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head and looking confused.

“I don’t know. I supposed I’m interested. I think girls are amazing, so I can’t imagine what it’s like to prefer boys. What’s it like, in that sense? Do you see a bloke and think ‘phoo-arr, that’s a bit of alright!’ or is it that you… fancy them? Y’know – you think you’re in love with them?”

“Well… how is it with girls?”

“W… OK… That’s a fair question. Um…” I thought about it. “There are some girls… I look at them and just want to fuck them. Then there are others that I look at and feel my heart swell, like I think they’re so pretty that I want to hold and protect them, and wouldn’t even think of doing anything nasty with… until… I’d got over the ‘love’ part.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s about the same.”

“So, you’re gay?”

“Yes, Nick. I think I am.”

I suppose I should clarify that we we both had the same name – I’m Nick, short for Nicholas, and he was Nic, short for Nicolàs. His family was French, or at least his dad was. They spoke French at home. Regardless, I was somewhat taken aback by his statement, but that passed very quickly. There was an initial surprise, but then a realisation that it was completely fitting. He wasn’t a coarse, manly-man. He was softly-spoken, soft-faced, and fastidious. He always dressed smartly, had gone to a private school, and had a gentle demeanour. If I had to imagine someone who was gay, he would have fit the bill.

“Oh. OK.” I lit another cigarette from the stub of my first one, because I’d not had more than a couple of puffs on it… no pun intended.

“Can I try one of those, now, please?” He asked.

I got one out for him and let him take a light off mine, but he didn’t know how to. I lit it for him and passed it over. “You know… gay guys do that for their boyfriends,” he said, with a smirk.

I laughed. “OK, but so do straight guys.”

“They bayan escort istanbul do it for their boyfriends?” He asked, drawing in a little smoke then letting it out as he spoke, without inhaling.

“If they’re straight, do they have boyfriends?” I said, chuckling at the joke I’d made of my intentional misunderstanding.

“Oh, yeah!” He said, trying the cigarette again.

“You take a little in your mouth and then inhale it,” I told him. “Don’t try to breathe in through the cig.”

He took it in and immediately coughed like crazy. “Fuck!” He said, after nearly ejecting his lungs. “How do you handle that?”

“You get used to it.” I chuckled. “What do you mean straight guys have boyfriends? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

He laughed. “Ooh – I’m getting a bit of a buzz.” He cleared his throat. “No, you’d be surprised how many straight guys just want to try it – or just want a boyfriend for sex, not love. Which is a bit cruel, because the gay guys who hook up with them sometimes feel more than just sexual desire. It’s kind of manipulative.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

He nodded. “I know a few boys who are gay, and they put themselves out there for other lads to shag. I wouldn’t do that, but sometimes… sex is good. I’ve gone out with girls, but I’ve always fancied boys more.”

“Have you had sex with another boy?” I asked, taking a big drag.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Kissed?”

He nodded. “One time.”

“Ever wanted to have sex with a boy?” I asked.

“All the fucking time!” He said, laughing. He tried the cigarette again. He managed not to cough this time. “That’s pretty good!” He said, looking at the Embassy Regal. It wasn’t, but for a first-timer, it probably hit the spot.

“Why? What’s it about guys that you like? I mean… with girls, they have nice arses, lovely tits, and delicious pussies. I really love their butts. I don’t know what it is – the perfect, rounded shape, the cleft between their cheeks, with that little hollow where their bumhole is – the’ve always got that. I love girls’ bums. Obviously, blokes have butts, too, but there’s something about the shape that isn’t as appealing – too square, you know what I mean? What do you like?”

“Cocks!” He said, flatly. “I want a dick in my mouth. I want to lick it, taste it, suck on it, feel it between my lips, and then feel the spunk as he cums in my mouth – all over my tongue and teeth, and down the back of my throat. I want to swallow it and feel him cum on my face. I want to be covered in cum. Spunk is sex, in a nutshell! When someone cums on you, it’s like… you’ve made them feel so good! I want to know that I made someone have an orgasm, and then taste the proof of it. Mmmm!”

I stared at him. Apart from the fact that it sounded… great… I was taken aback by how much he wanted it. I liked pussy, but I couldn’t have put my love for it the way he did. This was something he’d really thought a lot about. It wasn’t just a whim, or a passing fancy, he really craved it!

I contemplated his words. I had no particular qualms about sex with a guy. It wasn’t in th forefront of my mind, but it didn’t repel me. I always got confused when lads talked about homosexuals in derisive or hateful ways. I didn’t get it! Why hate someone because of what they did in private? It wasn’t like there were gangs of homos running around buttfucking people against their will, like they semed to imagine there were. Personally, I was interested by the idea, and wasn’t opposed to trying it some time. I considered the implications of what I was about to say – considered, then abandoned any concerns about it.

“Do you want to suck my cock?” I asked him. I meant it as an offer.

He blushed and looked flustered. “Well… no… that’s not what I meant. I’m not saying I fancy you, just – in general – I want… something like that.”

He’d mistaken what I’d said as a defensive challenge. “No – I mean… I’d let you if you wanted to. You made it sound really good. Most girls… well… the only one I’ve had sex with… they don’t seem that interested. It’s more like… a chore to them. They’ll do it, but it’s not what they want. Not like how I want to eat pussy. I love all the little parts they have – the inner lips, the puffy outer ones, the clit hood and the clitoris itself, and their vagina… that’s lovely to put a tongue into.”

He squinted at me. “But… the smell and the… goo.”

“Yeah, everyone smells if they haven’t have a wash, but clean pussy tastes lovely and the juices are delicious. Sarah was sweet and earthy at the same time, but the best part was licking her clitoris. She liked that a lot! I made her cum a few times just licking it. At least, I think I did. Anyway… what I was saying was that you made it sound like you really wanted it, and… I… have no problem with that.”

We smoked and drank for a bit.

“You’d really let me?” He asked.

“If you wanted to. But… just sex. It’s not like I have any escort bağdat caddesi feelings for you beyond… you’re my friend.”

“Would you suck mine, too?” He asked. I wasn’t sure if it was a request, or if he was just trying to gauge my level of interest.

I laughed, embarrassed. “I’m not saying I want to have gay sex with you, but if you wanted to suck a knob… I’ve got one. I don’t mind loaning it out for a bit. As far as… participating goes… I’d have to see.”

He sucked his lips. “OK. I’ll think about it. Thank you for offering. Um… I’ll let you know if that… happens to be something I feel like doing. Is your offer just right now because you feel turned-on, or would you be open to it another time?”

I smiled and put a hand on his cheek. He was warm and soft. He wasn’t shaving yet, I could tell. “I’d…” I took a breath. “I think I’d let you whenever you feel ready. Not just a whim.”

He smiled back. “Thanks, Nick. Um… We should start walking back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, swilling down some more beer then getting up. Oh! I had an erection. That made standing a little challenging, but I covered it pretty well. Nic had to take his time getting up as well, which he masked by glugging down the rest of his can. I accepted the empty from him, stepped on it to flatten it, shook it to get the drips out, and stashed it in a waterproof pocket.

I finished mine on the way back as he talked.

“I had a dream about it once. Sucking a knob.” He shook his head. “It felt so real and I loved it. Couldn’t get it out of my head!”

“You couldn’t get the dick out of your head?” I asked, joking. “Might have been ’cause it was in your gob.”

He laughed. “No – that’d probably entail all kinds of weird symbolism.”

“Beyond having a cock in your mouth? I mean – that’s telling you something, right there.”

“Yeah, well, I listened to that message. I broke up with the girl I was seeing the next day. Didn’t tell her why.”

“So tell me: why? Just because you fancy a bit-o’-cock doesn’t mean you have to ditch your girlfriend.”

“It made something clear to me. I was never going to get that with her.”

I shrugged. “Have both,” I suggested.

“You thought about it?” He asked.

“Umm… Y’know, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t. You ever watch a porno and imagine what it’d be like to be the girl in the movie?”

He gasped. “All the time! Well… I don’t watch pornos all the time, but those times I’ve seen them… I was looking at the guy’s cock.” He nodded for emphasis.

I chuckled. “I know, right. I think that’s pretty common. Once you’ve tried the guy’s role, you think about what she’s experiencing. Especially the end, when he spunks in her mouth.”

“You ever done that? Cum in a girl’s mouth?” He asked.

“Fuck, no. Sarah never wanted me to. She always clamped her mouth shut and grimaced if I came anywhere near her face.”

“The girl I went out with first, she squeezed the end of my knob and made me cum in my pants one time. The second one wanted me to eat her out, but never did the same for me,” he lamented. “It wasn’t like I was getting anything from her anyway.”

“Shit! Just whip it out and have a wank at that point,” I opined.

“What?” He looked confused. “I know the expression ‘wanker’, but – you’re gonna laugh at me – I don’t actually know what it means.”

I did laugh, then finished my can and did the squash-‘n’-stash thing. “You mean ‘wank’?”

“Right. What is it?”

“You take your knob in your hand and stroke it until you cum,” I told him, demonstrating the basic motion. I remembered the first time I’d heard about wanking. I had to admit, it wasn’t obvious. If nobody actually explained it to him, a lad wouldn’t know what to do – unless they were lucky enough to happen upon the idea themselves. “Nobody ever told you that?”

“I’ve lived a sheltered life. Private school; very strict. No sex-talk anywhere,” he said.

“Fuck off!” I said in disbelief. Admittedly, it wasn’t a boarding school – just a place in the village that had a good reputation and cost a shitload of money to attend. Most of the stories I’d heard about boarding schools were anything but prudish – all the sodomy and fagging for the head-boy.

“You’ve got brothers,” I pointed out. “They never said anything?”

He shook his head. “They’re off in college. Before that, they never talked to me about sex.”

“You’ve been cheated, Nic! Every lad needs to know how to wank.”

He looked disappointed, like he had indeed been ill-treated by life. “So… it’s just rubbing yourself, but you cum?”

“Simple as that, yep.”

“When Lorraine did it, it took her like an hour. She had to keep changing hands. You do it for that long?”

I laughed. “Fuck, no! You can get a good wank in five, ten minutes – depending how desperate you are.”

The magnitude of the revelation was apparent in his face. “It doesn’t feel fake doing it yourself?”

“You think about sex, you pump the fist, and boom! You spurt all over the place.”

He shook his head. We were getting out of the woods and close to the campsite I could see the van through the trees. The conversation had to take a break. “I’m going to have to try that,” he said quickly, before we were out in the open. “Not right now, but sometime.”

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