David’s Third Year at College

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Allie Haze

Book III. David’s third year at college

[Books I and II should be read first. Those readers who are familiar with gay history will be aware that the era in which this story takes place was one in which the dangers of AIDS had not been realized. So you will realize that we were rather farseeing in our use of condoms. In fact to some extent, our use of condoms was related to minimizing mess rather than protection from viral diseases. However our lack of indiscriminate sexual contacts was of course also a protective factor of some importance. Note also that this is “highbrow” porn, featuring academic life, culture and religion as well as sex].

Chapter 33 David

Soon it was necessary to move from Jon’s flat back into college. Of course this time I did not need to take all my possessions, just all my books, my (unused) bedlinen, most of my clothes, but not all, and a duplicate set of toiletries. In the time that I’m writing of, not all college rooms had been modernized, but as a Scholar, I was entitled to an en-suite room. The staircase was in one of the oldest college buildings, dating from the 17th century, so the floors were irregular and the steps crooked. It had cost a lot of money for the college to put in plumbing, central heating, electricity, telephone wires and category five cable into a listed building. If I wanted a phone, I would have to pay the college a large extra sum, which Jonathan very kindly offered to pay for me. Not all the furniture in the room was new, the old furniture being quite substantial was still perfectly serviceable, but the room was large, and because it had been modernized, it was well heated. Fortunately the bed was modern and comfortable. The en-suite bathroom was small but adequate, toilet, washbasin and shower, shelf space and a towel-rail. Jon was impressed. “Much better than the grotty room I had as an undergraduate” he said.

“Yes but you were a Commoner” I replied. “These old rooms have stout walls with good sound insulation. We’ll be able to make love without the occupants of the adjacent rooms hearing anything. I should have this room for six terms” I said, “though of course I’ll be back in your bed for the period outside term, unless I go home.” Camford terms were so short that students who needed library facilities needed to spend several weeks in Camford out of term time, and college rooms were often not available, due to the conference trade.

The academic structure of the Chemistry School was unusual. The bachelor’s degree could be obtained in three or four years. All undergraduates took the third year examinations. Those not intending to become academics or professional scientists could get a classified honours degree after three years. Those wishing to take their studies further did a fourth year, essentially a lab research programme. They did not get a classified degree on the basis of the third-year exams, they had to wait a further year and write a short dissertation on their laboratory project to get their class. If they continued their research through the two short vacations and two months in the summer (an extra 20 weeks) they could also get a Master’s degree.

A consequence of this was that in the third year there were more lectures and less laboratory work, so I could actually spend study time in the science library or in my room. Another result of the return to college was that Jon and I only ate together at lunchtime in the lab canteen, and at the twice-weekly dinner when Jon signed in to dine in Hall. Tom and Steve had also moved back into college and shared a double room on another staircase. I often ate dinner with them when Jon was not dining in college. Sleeping on my own took a short while to get used to, and I missed Jon at times. I also tended to drink more, as the college beer cellar had excellent beer (though not open pub hours), and was conveniently near my room. I also had a very kind and helpful bedder, who washed up as well as cleaning the room and making the bed. I kept a framed photograph of Jon by my bed, which must have told her that I was gay.

My evenings were pretty much as they had been in the second year, I went out with Jon twice a week, and Saturday was still sex and swimming day. I still only saw him on Sunday evenings, even though he had got rid of the financial chores of his family business.

Sometimes I would sign out of dinner and eat with Jon at home, especially if one or both of us urgently needed some sex. Fortunately the days when I spent all day longing for a fuck were relatively few, otherwise I would never have got any work done. I was in my final year of basketball. I decided that I would not play in my fourth year.

That academic year was notable for a big influx of women undergraduates. My tutor Dan C told me that it had not been deliberate policy by the college admissions tutor, it just happened that the women applicants got extremely good A-level grades. To the amazement and pleasure of the chemists, there was even a first-year girl reading chemistry. In Hall, the women students tended casino şirketleri to sit together, unless they were particularly gregarious or had formed a relationship with one of the men. But the chemists of all years went out of their way to welcome Carol, to make sure that she sat with the men chemists. She was bright, self-assured and quite attractive, though not strictly beautiful. Not all chemists sat together to eat of course, and many signed out, sat in other groups or went into the early, less formal dinner sitting. Carol opted for formal dinner most nights, in that way she met more men. She quite deliberately sat next to a different man each night so that she might get to know them. When my turn came to be sat by, she said to me “You’re one of the gay ones aren’t you?”

“Yes” I said “you will only see my boyfriend on Tuesday or Sunday nights, because he’s a Ph.D. student. You will be safe with me. Women like gays because they don’t constitute a threat or a temptation.” She told me that she came from an academic family, her father was a professor at Oxbridge, but a modern linguist, not a chemist. She had a sister at Southampton University. I invited her for a quick tête-à-tête cup of coffee in my room after dinner.

“Okay,” she said, “but I have to leave at 8-30 to go to a meeting.”

“No problem” I said.

Jon had insisted on buying me a sophisticated Italian coffee machine, because he said that he needed decent coffee on his visits to college. I made coffee and we sat and chatted. She told me that she was thinking of joining the choir. She was an alto, we were short of altos, so I encouraged her to approach the Organ Scholar. I found it difficult to decide whether she was attractive or pushy. She was very good company though, and obviously destined to have a great time in her four years in St Boniface’s.

To me she represented a great challenge to my sexual identity. She was great fun to be with, but I couldn’t see myself in bed with her. My experience is that most men think of women in sexual terms—-what are they like naked etc, and indeed I felt similar feelings myself, but in my case I got the same feelings, but stronger, with an attractive man. In particular whenever I looked at Jon’s hair and figure, I felt a stiffening between my legs.

Just before 8-30 Carol left. After she had gone, I settled down to some work for an hour. I had a half completed essay to finish. At 9-30, I rang Jon at home. He answered promptly and I said, “It’s your fag boy speaking. Would you like to come round for a fuck?”

“You or me?” He asked.

“You” I said, “tonight I want to do it.”

“Okay, I’ll be around in 10 minutes” he replied. My cock started stiffening the minute I heard his voice, and it was like an iron bar by the time that I heard his footsteps on the stairs. “I brought my bike inside”, he said, “in case I stay late. I’m not spending the night though, the college single beds are not big enough for two of us.”

“Just get undressed,” I said, making sure the door was locked. I had already removed my shoes and socks. I went up to him and interrupted his undressing by throwing my arms around him and kissing him passionately. Then I reached down with my left hand and felt his crotch. His dick was as hard as nails. I let him loose and he put the rest of his clothes on the sofa. By now I was completely nude and was rubbing my right hand over his smooth white arse, while my left hand held his tool. I led him into the bedroom, where a towel covered the bed. I pushed him down on his back, lay on top of him and resumed kissing him on the lips. We were both copiously oozing pre-come. I opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom that I’d opened earlier and rolled it onto my tool. Jon lay there grinning broadly. “Who would have thought that just over six months ago I was an anal virgin and you were pleading with me to let you have a go at fucking me? Now I welcome your monster dick up my back passage. It’s over a month since you last penetrated me!”

“Shut up, and spread your legs!” I said, getting the K-Y gel out of the drawer and spreading it over the rubber. I applied gel copiously to his perineum and pushed it into his hole, kissing his chest at intervals as I did so.

“My paper with Ed has just been accepted by the Journal of Organic Chemistry,” he said. “Only a couple more and I will have enough for my Ph.D.”

“Don’t talk shop when we’re fucking” I said, “I entertained a female first-year student for coffee here a couple of hours ago. I fantasized about what it might be like with my cock up a woman’s cunt. It really didn’t appeal to me. For a start, men smell nicer than women, and you smell delectable” and I kissed his lips and opened my mouth to his tongue.

“Yes” he said “I put on some fragrance before leaving the flat. I’m glad you like it.” He sighed with contentment as I slowly pushed my tool into his man-hole, and started fucking gently and slowly…

As I began to play a more active role in our sexual relationship, I began to share Jon’s casino firmaları sense of awe and gratitude that another human being ever could enter into the joy and tenderness that a good sexual union brings, and I felt I should reserve my crude comments for afterwards. Such comments seemed inappropriate during what was beginning to feel more and more like a sacramental act. I also began to feel an increased sense of unworthiness, that this man who had so much wealth loved me so deeply. I knew that I was not just a sex-object. If he had just wanted someone to fuck, he could have hired every single rent-boy in Camford. The fact that he had never fucked anyone until he met me shows that he wanted a soulmate rather than a catamite.

After I had come, I lowered his legs and lay on top of him withdrawing my dick from his hole, and I began to rub my belly on his tool while gently nibbling his neck and shoulders. After half a minute or so he came and we lay there with a glutinous mass of come sticking our bellies and chests together. “My darling Jon” I murmured, “why do you love me so much? What have I done to deserve someone like you?”

“All you’ve done” he said “to echo my mother’s words to you in Nice, is just to be yourself. It’s you, not what you’ve done or will do, that I love.”

“I’ve got some Orval in the cupboard” I said. “Would you like a bottle, or is it too bitter at this time of night?”

“Is it young, or old?” Jon asked.

“It’s this year’s” I said.

“It will be okay then,” he said “not too bitter”. I took two skittle-shaped bottles and poured them carefully into two glasses. Jon drank his with relish.

“Trappist beer is lovely” he said. “Your knowledge of beer is advancing as fast as your knowledge of chemistry.”

“I found a specialist beer shop” I said.

“Oh yes, out on the Squidgley Road. Yes, it’s very good. They will deliver if you buy a crate. It’s time I went back. I’ve still got a few things to finish at home.”

“And I’ve got an essay to finish” I said “I hope that you get no discomfort from your bike saddle in that hole of yours that I’ve just been up” I said.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s only half a mile back to Fountain Street.”

“Oh, and congratulations on getting your new paper accepted.” I said. “Sex is obviously good for you, just as it is for me!” I went with him while he collected his bike and let him push it out of the small side gate of the college, which was the locked entrance and exit after midnight. Before he left he said, “Tell your bedder that you’re going away for the weekend. I’ve hired a car, I’ll pick you up in it outside the main gate at 9-30 on Saturday morning. You’ll be back home in time for Chapel and Hall on Sunday night. Sign me in for dinner on Sunday.” And he mounted his bike and rode off into the night.

Chapter 34

Saturday morning found me at the main gate and promptly at 9-30, Jon drove up. “Put your bag in the boot” he said “I’ve booked a double room at the pub in Ixton for tonight.”

“Where’s Ixton?” I asked, as he drove off.

“Where our new house is going to be” he said “I bought an old barn on a farm in Ixton in last summer, and planning permission has just been granted for conversion to a five-bedroom dwelling house with indoor swimming pool. Ixton’s about 70 miles away, so we’ll be there in a couple of hours. I’ve got a big metal tape measure with me to check measurements. I want your opinion about everything, because you are going to be co-owner with me of the house.”

We stopped for coffee and a pee at a motorway service area on the M40, and about 11-30 arrived at the pub, the Jellycotes Arms in Ixton. “They don’t do a lot of overnight business, because Ixton is a bit of a backwater, but they are very nice people.”

Our room was very nice with old-fashioned furniture and a good modern bathroom, which even had a bidet. We had a sandwich lunch in the bar with a pint of beer each and about 1-30 drove to the barn. To reach it by road, you had to drive down an unsurfaced farm track about 800 metres long. “I’ve got the key” said David. We approached the huge barn doors and discovered that there was a small locked door within one of the big doors, just as in a Camford college. We unlocked the small door and stepped over the 30 cm high threshold into the building. The massive building was very dim. It was mainly open right up to the roof, like a giant atrium, but at one end there was a floor at first-floor level reached by a wooden ladder. Jon went back to the car and came back with a large, very bright torch, and by its light, we climbed up to get some idea of how high the building was. “This level is about right for the first floor,” said Jon “and there is room for yet another story under the roof. We might need to put some dormer windows or rooflights in.”

“Oh, dormers with window seats” I said. “The walls are so thick that all the windows will have window seats.” The roof, which was made of solid stone slabs was supported by massive oak beams embedded in the stonework güvenilir casino of the walls.

“The roof supports might need reinforcing,” said Jon and we’re going to need girders to support the floors up there. Also it’s clear from the state of the floor that the roof leaks in a few places. It will be a lot of work breaking through these thick walls to create windows. I’ve got plenty of ideas about layout, but we need an architect to determine whether it would be possible to install a lift. Also the foundations need to be looked at to see how deep they go, if we’re going to dig a hole for a pool.”

At this point the discomfort in my bowels that had been building up since lunch got too much to bear and I noisily released the built-up gas. “You windy bugger” said Jon and kissed me affectionately. “This place has reverted to its old use, you’ve made it stink like a stable!”

“Sorry” I said, and farted again.

“Let’s hope that’s the last of it!” grinned Jon. I threw my arms round him and kissed him passionately. He ran his hand over the seat of my jeans. “Suck me, please Jon,” I said and I unzipped my fly and dropped my jeans and briefs to the floor. Jon knelt down and took hold of my semi-stiff tool. It started to swell immediately and he began to lick the tip and play with my foreskin with his lips. I put my hand at the back of his head and started to enjoy the sensations he was giving me with his lips and tongue. Although he had never had experience of fucking when we first met, he had obviously given quite a lot of blow-jobs, and seemed to know exactly how to make a man very happy in the cock department. I had about five minutes of sheer ecstasy with Jon’s jaws and tongue before I came violently into his mouth. I watched him savouring the taste of my seed before swallowing it. Jon let my cock slip out of his mouth and said: “It’s hard to believe that I have just sucked off the guy who 18 months ago told me that there were lots of things in life besides sex! If you really believed that, we would be measuring the inside width of this building. You’ve changed from being a religious obsessive to being a sex obsessive!”

“You want it just as much as I do!” I replied. “OK, let’s get measuring. I pulled up my lower garments and zipped up my fly. We measured the internal length and width of the building.

“We can only get a rough idea of the height” Jon said “if we have a line of sight on the top of the inside walls and can measure the angle from the vertical with a plumb line. We can hang the plumb line from the upper floor level.” He sent me to the car where I found a spanner in the boot. Jon had a three-metre length of string to which we tied the spanner and fastened the string to the top of the ladder.

“How are we going to measure the angle without a protractor?” I asked. He pulled a small telescope out of his pocket.

“This may give us a rough idea,” he said. With much difficulty, using a piece of cardboard and a marker pen, I marked the vertical of the plumb line and Jon lay on the floor. When he had the top of the wall in the centre of his field of view I marked the angle of the telescope on the card. “All we need now is the distance of the plumb line from the wall,” said Jon. We measured that, not without some difficulty. “When I get home I can measure the angle on the card and we can do a rough estimation of the height of the walls,” he said.

We walked round to the back of the barn and looked down on the road below. “I think it might be possible to drop a shaft down through the earth to road level for a lift-shaft or steps to create a street-level entrance,” said Jon. “I would envisage it as only being in use for pedestrians and post deliveries. Do you want space for a garden?”

“Not particularly,” I said, “as long as people can’t look into the ground floor windows.

“It’s private land belonging to Arthur,” said Jon, “so we’re OK.”

“What about the access road? It might be nasty in the winter.”

“Yes, we may have to get it improved,” said Jon, “particularly to provide access for the builders, and that might be expensive. Let’s go back to the pub and sketch out some ideas.”

As we drove into Ixton, Jon said, “I’m sorry not to be able to offer you a turn at driving, but the hire firm prohibits for insurance reasons anyone under 21 from driving. Even I, five years older than you have a loaded hire rate because I’m under 26.” “Well, although I have a licence, I’ve not had much driving experience,” I said.

When we got back to the hotel about 5 pm, we went into the bar, bought beers and went into the small residents’ lounge. Jon spread out some sheets of blank paper and got out a pencil. Eventually we drew up a scheme. The ground floor would have kitchen with large dining area, bathroom, toilet, cloakroom, pool, separate male and female changing rooms with toilets and a pool-viewing area. The first floor would have a large and a small sitting room, and two of the five bedrooms. The top floor would have a big study, the other three bedrooms and a small room set at my disposal, which I planned to use as a chapel/prayer room. All bedrooms would have en-suite bathrooms. Jon said, “When we get back to Camford, I’ll ask Tim Ingledown to find us a good architect to mastermind the conversion.”

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