Part One of this story can be read here. Meanwhile, the summer of 1982 is drawing to a close.
We spent the summer together. The council found me a flat after my father threw me out, in a block a couple of miles from Dudley town centre. Carl helped me to furnish it and my new comrades from the Labour Party Young Socialists came to paint it, help lay room sized offcuts of carpet and, after working, we sat on beanbags, or on the floor, with takeaway curries and cans of fizzy Worthington E. When they had gone, Carl would stay, we would smoke spliffs and when our heads were a little scrambled, we would make love. As the relationship developed and as I gained experience at ex, I assumed the role of bottom. Not that I was submissive in the relationship although Carl was so much more experienced than me, in sex and in politics, and took the lead. I learned to relax as he fucked me, not fight, not clench my muscles, as his hard cock speared its way up my back passage. I masturbated him too, loved to drink his come. He, in turn, blew me and this was the sexual release I felt most comfortable with.
When I wasn’t discovering my sexuality, I was discovering socialism. I always had newspapers and pamphlets to read, there were the long discussions in The Shakespeare over pints of mild and bags of scratchings. Saturdays were spent in the High Street selling papers, there were two, sometimes three meetings a week, either in the pub or followed by the pub. Life was beer, sex and socialism and I loved it. I had hardly noticed that I was being pulled away from old friends, from my family. Would I have cared if I had?
The summer of 1982 passed quickly. The Falklands War had been won. Thatcher was in her pomp, the SDP splitters were winning by-elections, but the line was that Labour would win the next election, there would be a general strike and the new government would nationalise the top 300 monopolies and we would have socialism, not the bureaucratically deformed socialism of the Soviet Union but the real thing. I had just turned 18, I was pretty naive but even I could see that this was bullshit. I still talked to people outside the party who had different views, talked to the parents of school friends who had bought their council houses and were going to vote for Thatcher next time. As the bloke said,
“Why shouldn’t I be able to own my house? Just because I am a working man, does that mean I have to spend the rest of my life with the Council telling me what colour front door I can have? I am a free man now and, I tell you what, she’s getting my vote next time.”
And I had to admit he had a point. Truth was, I was conflicted. I believed in socialism, I still do but, four months in, I was fed up with selling Militant and arguing things I didn’t believe in. I only kept on doing it for Carl, for the sex we had on that grubby mattress on the floor of his flat.
On Bank Holiday Monday at the end of August, we bought half a dozen cans of beer at an off licence and rode down to Wren’s Nest on Gary’s MZ. I rode pillion, wrapped my arms round his leather clad torso and felt myself getting hard.
We left the bike at the end of the lane that led off Wren’s Hill Road, and walked up a hill topped with lime trees, with a view over the drab council estate. It was secluded here. I knelt before Carl feeling the leather trousers, rubbing mt face against the crotch, felt the cock swelling. eager to burst out to meet my greedy mouth. I had learnt, a little anyway. I looked up at Carl’s face. He had shut his eyes to focus on the pleasure I was aboit to give him. But I knew now to tease, to make him wait. I took the zip in my hand, pulled it down a little, then stopped. I stroked the bulge until his cock hardened and grew some more. He started to moan. I carried on stroking.
“Oh just blow me Gary, just fucking blow me.”
I pulled the zip down a little further. Carl’s huge cock was now ready to burst through the slit in his boxer shorts. As it emerged the sensitive bell end caught on the zip and he moaned.
“Oh please Gary, just do it.”
I am sure there was a hint of anguish in his voice. I continued to rub found his balls, cradled them in my hands through the leather, Carl moaned some more.
When I pulled the zip down to the bottom the cock burst out, shiny and proud, dripping with precome. I took it into my mouth and he came immediately, came in torrents. I swallowed greedily. I stood up and kissed him, transferring some of his come into hs mouth. I grabbed his head, pulled him close, locked him into the kiss until he broke free and took a step back, gasping.
“Oh fuck, that was good!”
We took a can of beer each and drank, not saying much bur enjoying the moment, two men with lovely cocks in the sunshine, fighting the onset of autumn with beer and sex.
“I’ve got something to tell you” said Carl, “but I will tell you later. Now I just want to take you”
I smiled and unzipped my jeans. I dropped them and turned round. I bent over. We knew each other well now and hardly needed to talk. I felt, once more, the cold slap of lube around my anus, his finger going in to loosen me. I relaxed, and felt a harsh thwack across my backside. He hit me again. I looked round and saw Carl holding a branch he had snapped off a tree. He smiled.
“What do you want?”
“I want you inside me”
“Say – please sir I want to be buggered.”
“Please sir I want to be buggered.”
He moved in and was quickly sliding up my back passage. He seized my hair and pulled my head up. .
“You know why I am doing this?”
“Because I feel like it. Because I can.”
He laughed. I felt myself getting hard.
As he moved in and out his and felt my crotch and he could see it too.
“Wank and we’ll come together.”
I did as I was told and quickly came, my warm come dropping over the stony ground.
“I said we would come together. Look what you’ve done.”
Carl carried on, I felt his cock swell some more inside me and it became uncomfortable. I tensed my muscles, resisting him, he pushed again
“Stop sir please stop.”
It was all becoming too much, emotions were taking over. He thrust again and groaned as he came. He withdrew. I felt his come dripping out of me. His come and mine. His and mine, mixed and shining in the late summer sun.
“You came without permission. ”
“You did. Tell me you’re sorry.”
“On your knees and kiss my arse.”
So I did and kissed him once on each cheek. Then I kissed his anus, his lovely brown ring, I licked it, tasted it, flicked at it with my tongue. Then I stiffened my tongue, pushed it as far as I could, pushed my face against his bottom, felt the roughness of the hairs against my cheeks. He wasn’t completely clean, I tasted his shit, but I didn’t care, It was HIS shit. I stood up, took a swig of mouthwash, spat it out on the ground. We kissed again ad I was about to go down on Carl a second time when we heard a voice
“Fucking poofs, in public too. You can get off the Wrenner you bent fuckers. Get out.”
We heard footsteps rushing towards us, picked up our clothes, and ran. leaving behind four cans of warm, fizzy beer. They were welcome to them, I thought.
They didn’t run after us and we were quickly back at the motorbike.
We stood in silence for a few moments then Carl said
“I’m leaving Militant. I’m leaving Dudley. Meeting after meeting. They burn you out. And besides, Dudley is a shit place to be gay. You’re going to find that out.”
“Where are you going?”
“London. I’ve got a place to say for while, at least until I sort myself out. Look Gary, I have a life to live. We only get one chance at this. I need to be me. Really me. I can do that in London.”
“Can I at least have your address?”
“Sorry Gary but I don’t think so. This is a new start for me. Just forget about me. You’l find somebody else. Here. Somewhere.”
“Only I was thinking we might go away together,,,,,,I am fed up with Militant too. ”
“I need to move on.”
He avoided eye contact and shuffled his feet.
He handed me a card with the name of a club in Wolverhampton.
“You can hang out there. There are some cute boys. You’re cute too. You will pull there. no problem.”
He planted a kiss on my lips and said
“Thanks for everything Gary but this is it”
He put his helmet on and lowered the visor. He swung his leg over and kicked the MZ’s engine into life. He rode off, leaving a sweet cloud of two stroke exhaust hanging in the air.
Back in my flat I cried. I put the record on, the Japan single I had bought back in April. at the time I first met Carl.
“Just when I think I’m winning, when I’ve opened up the door, the ghosts of my life grow wilder than before.”
A post for Wicked Wednesday. You can find more wickedness here