I had my 16th birthday in August 1961. By rights, I should have left school in July, or moved into the VIth form, but my 'O' level results were not good enough, so I had to spend an extra year in the Vth to retake some exams. I think my poor performance was due in no small part to the turmoil I had been through over Dennis.
Peter had moved; Ken had moved; so I was again on the lookout for a new friend. September '61 saw another new intake of fresh-faced youngsters and during the first few weeks of term, I noticed one boy in particular. He always looked so well turned out; shoes always superbly polished; socks always pulled up smartly with his green scout garter tabs never out of place. His neat, slightly shorter than most, well-creased grey flannel shorts, gave a hint of shapely thighs and yet he also appeared so innocent and slightly awestruck by his new environment. He stood out from all the rest and he fascinated me. For some strange reason I thought he must be the son of a professional, say a doctor or some such. At break times, I would observe him playing football with his classmates, and I wondered how I could get to know him. After all, I was in the Vth form and he was just a first year. However, remembering how, all those years earlier, I had got to know Colin, I felt that the current challenge was not insurmountable. I suppose that in the rarefied atmosphere of an all-boys; school, romantic attachments were bound to be formed.
By keeping my ears open whenever I was in close proximity I had learned his surname - boys at school always called each other by their surnames - and I also knew which class he was in (IIS), by watching where he and his pals went for registration. Each day after class registration, form monitors would take the class register, and put it on the shelf outside the secretary's office. It was relatively easy to sneak a quick look at the IIS register, once it had been put on the shelf. I'd lost none of my deviousness! (Eat your heart out Hercule Poirot!) I thus learnt that his name was Graham. I now knew where he lived, and to my delight, his house was about three minutes bike ride from mine. By careful observation, I also discovered which 'bus he took to school and at what time. By adjusting my route, I could swing out of a road nearly opposite his 'bus stop a few minutes before his 'bus arrived, and cycle by. Because the 'bus took a roundabout route, I always arrived at school before Graham and his friend.
I had been in the habit of kicking a ball around in the playground before the start of morning school. I well remember that morning in late October 1961 when I finally plucked up the courage to ask Graham and his pal if they'd like a kick about, and when they said 'Yes' - Oh frabjous day! Having made contact, this now meant that from then on I could stop at the 'bus stop and chat until the 'bus arrived and still make it to school at virtually the same time.
Today, with the cynical outlook with which society is imbued, my behaviour would be branded as 'stalking', or worse - 'grooming!' but the 60s was altogether a more innocent age. True, I found Graham strikingly attractive. I felt overwhelmingly protective towards him. Woe betide anyone who might wish to bully him! I yearned for his companionship and it wasn't long, as our friendship developed, that I knew he could be my new 'little brother'.
Thoughts of a physical nature did not even enter my head at that time. If such thoughts or actions did manifest themselves at a later date, then they would do so as a logical result of the mutual feelings that had developed between us. However, I daresay my actions would be misinterpreted today, even though I was only 16, and a naïve one at that.
It was one thing just chatting at the 'bus stop, or kicking a ball about in the playground, but quite another to make the step from acquaintance to friend. I mulled this problem over and over with no success. Finally, quite fortuitously, a solution presented itself. I was quite a respectable artist, Art being the only 'A' level that I achieved in later years. Usually, when I had completed a drawing or painting, I rolled it around my bicycle pump, and then reattached the pump to the bike. On one particular day, I had a problem. The painting I wished to transport home was wider than the length of the pump. In a flash of inspiration, I decided to ask Graham to take it home on the 'bus. I told him I knew where he lived, so I'd collect it from him later. Brilliant! My plan worked perfectly. I cycled over to his house and was messing about with him outside, turning him upside down, general horseplay and the like, when his mother returned from work. Graham introduced me and I was invited in for a cup of tea. Inwardly, I was elated. Over the ensuing months, we became closer as our friendship blossomed and flourished. I became a frequent visitor to his house; went to support him at his soccer matches and occasionally accompanied him to town. Graham still spent a good deal of his time with his childhood friend, Chris. He was an extremely loyal friend, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
My feelings for him had now gone beyond animal attraction and infatuation. I loved him as I had loved no other and desperately wanted to demonstrate this physically. If he rejected my clumsy attempts, so be it; I'd still have the platonic friendship, or so I hoped. He could reject me altogether, of course; that thought terrified me.
About four months after we first met, Graham was ill and was confined to bed. I called round to see him and spent ages sitting on the edge of his bed, nattering, about what he wanted for his forthcoming birthday. When the time came for my departure, I hesitated and wavered for a while, before taking the bull by the horns and saying,
'Ah well, I'd better be going, I'll just kiss you goodbye.'
He blushed and giggled and I made a charade out of it, telling him to close his eyes and then touching him lightly on the lips with my fingers. He opened his eyes, tittering. I repeated the exercise a couple more times, and each time, as he opened his eyes he was chuckling. Finally, as he closed his eyes yet again, I kissed him gently but firmly on the lips. He blushed deeply as I asked,
'Aren't you going to repay the compliment?'
'Not today,' he said with a coy smile.
Had I gone too far, I asked myself? Would he think I was soft, as Ken had done? Was my latest love doomed before it had really begun? All these questions raced through my mind but had to remain unanswered until I next saw Graham.
Graham's mother was delighted with her son's newfound friend. Hitherto, Graham had been shy and withdrawn, never visiting anyone other than his buddy Chris. Now he was emerging from his shell and had already been round to my house on a couple of occasions - major events in the life of one so introverted.
Shortly after his birthday, Graham again came round to my house and we went upstairs to my room. Those questions remained unanswered, but I had to know. Emboldened by the lack of any adverse reaction following that sickbed kiss, I stood facing him and raising his chin with my hand, I lent forward and kissed him tenderly. Immediately his arms snaked around my waist and he reciprocated passionately. I was in seventh heaven. My prayers had been answered. We stayed locked in each other's arms, lips glued together for several seconds. Finally, as we unlocked lips, I relieved the tension as I exclaimed,
'Oh Graham, I love you!'
'I love you too!' came his instant reply.
It was like a dream come true, only one doesn't experience such ecstasy in dreams. 'Little Brother' had metamorphosed into 'boyfriend.'
We cuddled for a while longer, and then, quite spontaneously, I said to him,
'Graham, will you do me a favour?' I continued quickly before he could respond. 'Don't ask me why or anything, but will you take your trousers down?'
'Yeah, O.K.' he responded, to my utter astonishment.
He undid his snake-clasp belt and slid his pale grey cords down to his ankles.
'And your pants?' I ventured, slightly uncertainly.
'No, not those,' he said quietly, as I moved to the door and opened two cupboard doors which would provide an effective barrier, should anyone barge in. I slipped my own trousers to the floor and lay on the bed.
'Now, lie on top of me', I whispered.
As Graham lowered himself, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and my forefingers into the waistband of his and with one deft movement, whipped down both pairs of underpants to our knees. His earlier refusal to remove his pants was swept aside by the new thrills that were engulfing both of us. Before he had a chance to object, our chests, tummies and thighs were in contact. We were both in a state of arousal and as our hard penises rubbed together, I clutched his bare bottom.
'There, that's better isn't it?' I said.
'Yeah, rath-er!' he sighed excitedly. This word 'rather', pronounced as two emphatic syllables was his enthusiastic response to many things. It was a word of its time, similar to 'cool', 'triffic', 'brill' or 'ace' of later years. It was typical of the early 60s.
We lay there kissing, and enjoying the sensual warmth of our bodies in such close proximity. As I lay there in blissful ecstasy, musing on how I'd never seen a boy of his age so well-endowed before, (he must have been six inches with girth to match!) the inevitable happened. My mother wanted to come in! The bedroom door clattered against the two cupboard doors.
'Just a minute, I've got books all over the floor,' I bellowed as we frantically hitched up our trousers and made tidying-up sounds. It couldn't have looked more innocent when she entered, on some trivial mission - probably to spy on me. I think she suspected something, as she had made the suggestion previously that I ought to find friends nearer my own age. Graham was about three years younger, and at the peak of our friendship (in '64/5), was about the same height. Ironically, we could have been taken for brothers.
However, this was at the start of our relationship, so as Graham had not yet hit the growth spurt, there was a little disparity in our sizes - although obviously not in all departments! After the matriarchal interruption, we dared not pull our pants down again. Graham was sitting on one of the two single beds, with his back against the wall. I once more pulled out the two cupboard doors, just as a precaution. When I rejoined him, I made a move to undo his flies, but perhaps fearing the return of Mama, or perhaps because he didn't know what to expect, he put his hand over his crotch.
'I won't hurt you, ' I soothed, 'come on, take your hands away.'
He relented, and watched, fascinated, as I first undid his zip and took out his burgeoning penis. After minimal fondling, it sprang into life and swelled into the six-inch monster of earlier. I began slowly wanking him. He stretched his legs out in front of him, clamping them tightly together, pushing his back against the wall, as a wave of excitement overtook him. Suddenly, with very little warning he climaxed and expelled his breath,
'Oooh, Aaah! and he ejaculated.
A thin jet of semen spurted upwards and then landed back down on the tip of his reddened penis.
'Ugh!' he grunted, as he wondered what this strange goo was.
I took my hanky out and wiped his softening cock. I asked the panting boy,
'Did you like that?'
'Rath-er!' came his fervent rejoinder.
'Would you like me to do it to you again sometime?' I ventured.
It transpired that Graham had never experienced an orgasm before - not even a wet dream, and certainly not a wank - so I was doubly elated at having been the one to give him his very first sexual experience. I explained to him all about erections, puberty, semen and sex generally. I knew there was no such thing as 'sex education' at school. The only reference I ever recall was in the Biology lesson, when Mr.B was explaining the mechanics of reproduction, and expounded,
'...And it's not what the Sunday newspapers make it out to be.'
Three days later, we did it again.
'It's a fabulous feeling, isn't it?' observed Graham
'Would you like to do the same to me?' I asked.
Graham nodded, and unzipped my trousers, taking hold of my painfully stiff penis for the first time. The feel of his hand on my cock as it dribbled out pre-cum, sent waves of ecstatic pleasure through my whole being. I didn't last long and only just succeeded in laying a hanky over my tummy before Graham wanked me to an explosive orgasm. I shot spurt after spurt of creamy semen, soaking the hanky.
From that day on, we 'pleasured' each other at every available opportunity. I had to dispose of several well-used and stiffened handkerchiefs, not wishing to risk discovery by way of telltale stains, if the offending articles were submitted for laundry.
Graham's ejaculations were so powerful that he often held the hanky up to catch the spunk and prevent it from hitting him in the face!
The ludicrous thing about this period of my life was, that as a good Catholic boy, I had to confess these 'sins' periodically. The conversation at the confessional would go something like this:
'Bless me Fr. For I have sinned. It has been x-weeks/months since my last confession. During that time I have........and committed several acts of impurity.'
'Were these acts by yourself, or with another?'
'By myself, and occasionally with someone else, Fr.'
'Would that be with a girl or a boy?'
(One can't help feeling that maybe the priest was gaining some vicarious titillation from these youthful revelations.)
'Umm...er...a boy, Father.'
There followed a little homily about the sinfulness of homosexuality and taking the pleasure away from the purpose, the absolution and the penance - usually the parrot repetition of certain prayers - 'Three 'Our Fathers' and three 'Hail Marys' etc.'
If I had ever committed a sin by these acts, of course, I was sorry, but I just couldn't believe that my love for Graham, even if it had developed into a physical expression, was in any way wrong. It was something beautiful, not sinful, and I certainly could never have promised that I wouldn't have sex with him again. We were simply devoted to each other. Sexual activity was just the logical fulfilment, of our mutual passion. It made our love whole but it wasn't the be-all and end-all of our relationship.
The next time Graham visited me, we couldn't wait to get upstairs to my bedroom. Once there we kissed fervently, as I undid his belt and zip, slipping his trousers and pants down to his ankles. I then raised his top to his armpits, thus exposing as much bare flesh as possible. I laid him down on the bed and began kissing him all over; his lips, his cheeks, his cute nose, each eyelid. I went lower and kissed his nipples in turn. Next, I drove my tongue into his sweet little belly-button, and kissed his tummy all over. I returned to his cock but the rules of the site prevent my giving further details. Suffice it to say that I fully satisfied him.
'Come on, my turn,' I said, as I exposed my rampant cock, and once more I thrilled to an ecstatic orgasm under his gentle but excited caresses.
'God, I love you!' I cried out, as I inhaled the sweet fragrance of his hair.
'I love you too,' Graham whispered as he hugged me tight. I never tired of hearing him say that. We kissed tenderly but eagerly. I just wished our meetings would last forever.
Each time we made love, I wanted the experience to be the very pinnacle of pleasure and ecstasy for him. It was truly wonderful to be able to give so much pleasure and enjoyment to another.
Graham made his own discovery whilst out for a bike ride one day - which he excitedly related to me. It appears that as he was cycling along a wooded track, he came across three bikes carelessly left against a tree. Graham stopped and peered towards the undergrowth from whence he could hear giggling. He went further and could hardly believe what he saw. Three boys aged about 13 were romping around snogging each other - and thoroughly enjoying themselves! I was glad he'd made this discovery, as he now realised that what we got up to wasn't so outlandish.
We became virtually inseparable, spending as much time in each other's company as was possible. On average, we made love about twice a week, although this figure was to increase in ensuing years as we spent even more time in each other's company, going on holiday and camps together.
Because of our ages, the interest in sex was quite natural, but it wasn't an obsession, despite the vivid descriptions contained in this account. Most of the time we spent together, we were not alone. We had family and friends around us. Graham was quite an athlete. He was good at most sports, representing the school at soccer as well as athletics. I often used to support him at these events, cheering him on alongside his mum, dad and younger brother.
We did take incredibly stupid risks though, sometimes holding hands under the tea table, or taking chances to steal a kiss - and sometimes more - when people's backs were turned. I masturbated him two or three times in his front room, using a large book to cover up, should anyone come in. I think we both enjoyed the danger inherent in such activities; and once we went all the way in his bedroom when his dad was only yards away on the same floor!
I even did it to him in the cinema once. I told Graham to go to the gents and take his underpants off, but he had another idea. He'd pulled his pants right down underneath his trousers and soon my hand was thrust through the inevitable hole in his pocket and holding his bare cock, recalling memories of Tony B. a few years earlier. It was so thrilling, wanking Graham with so many people close by. The whole row it seemed was shaking as I tossed him furiously towards his climax. I wrapped his cock in a hanky and then his climax overtook him.
On one occasion, after tea, we said we were going out into the garden to look at the night sky (for yet another scout badge), and there behind the garden shed, under the pretext of looking at Polaris, we produced our own missile-shapes and wanked each other yet again, shooting into the long grass.
For a period, I worked away from home and my Graham, but always returned for a couple of days each week. These I spent largely with Graham, and we usually managed a couple of wanks each during this time. Other times we wrote to each other and we also arranged wanking times. At a pre-arranged time - set when we'd last met - Graham would excuse himself and go to the toilet at home to masturbate, whilst thinking of me, knowing that at precisely the same time I would be tossing myself off in my room in London thinking of him.
We never referred to masturbation by name - not even as 'wanking.' It was always referred to as 'It'. 'Have you done 'It' today yet?' or 'When was the last time you did 'It'?'
We both belonged to the local scout group. He was a patrol leader and I was the only senior scout - soon to become an A.S.M. The day came when Graham needed to camp out for a night and cook a meal as part of one of the many badges that he was trying for. The rules said that he could do this exercise alone or he could be accompanied by a friend. Of course he chose to do it with a friend - me. Graham's dad drove us out to our chosen spot - a pre-arranged field-site near a little village some seven miles away. It was great; very secluded. We were completely alone. We quickly erected our tent. My heart was pounding with excitement. I could hardly wait for us to complete the business-side of the trip and get down to our own private 'business'. With that in mind, it wasn't only the tent that was erected! We spread out our sleeping bags and dragged all the stuff inside the tent. Then we made a fire and Graham cooked us a simple meal - sausages and instant mashed potato. We ate our meal quickly constantly throwing lascivious and/or amorous glances at each other. I'm sure we both had stiffies as we hurriedly ate. We didn't bother with the washing-up - that could wait. We couldn't wait to get inside the tent and wank. Leaving the dishes, and pausing only for a pee - I held Graham's cock while he peed - we scrabbled inside and I did the tent up securely. We kissed passionately and hurriedly stripped off our clothes. In seconds, we were naked, and lay down, fervently kissing and cuddling. I kissed him all over, and I mean ALL over!
'Lie on top of me, like we did before,' I suggested.
Graham obeyed readily. As he clambered on, I drank in his beautiful 13-year old nakedness. His hair was soft and fine and his skin as smooth as satin. He lowered himself on me and I gripped his bum cheeks as I recalled that first time up in my bedroom, when he first lowered his trousers. We lay there for a while just whispering sweet nothings. I must have told him a dozen times that I loved him, and never tired of hearing his response: 'I love you too.' We were both so incredibly randy on that day, pre-cum was oozing forth from both our horny pricks. We were both sweating profusely as our burning naked flesh clung together. Graham began to slyly move his bum up and down as he began humping me. His cock was pulsating strongly, so I rolled him off me and once more took his lovely cock in my hand and began pumping him - slowly at first, working up to a good rhythm. Graham began to squirm in ecstasy under my touch. Then all of a sudden the familiar signs were there once more. Graham's legs went rigid and he began panting heavily. I wanked him furiously as the impending orgasm approached.
'It's cummming!!' he groaned. I could feel every pulse of his orgasm as he squirted jet after jet of spunk high into the air to land in several splashes on his face and chest
It was now my turn. We were like 'lovers in the woods'. I made this thrilling experience last for as long as I could, and as Graham expertly manipulated my penis, my whole body writhed with pleasure. I began thrusting upwards into Graham's fist as I became intense as my explosive orgasm approached. Graham leant over and kissed me as I spunked up. I shot a huge load of spunk over both our chests as I smothered him with kisses. We collapsed and just lay there - still in the nude - kissing and cuddling, wrapped in each other's arms as we recovered. We needed to as we had been 'at it' for the best part of five hours!
Graham used to visit me whilst I was at work. He'd cycle up to the remote signal-operators' cabin at the edge of town, where I worked maintaining the balanced signal for that earliest of cable schemes - Rediffusion. I'd take him into the back of the hut, where all the equipment was, and we'd drop our trousers and pants. We enjoyed several great wanking sessions there. There was only the very slightest element of risk - if a colleague called up, but as this had never happened, I reckoned it was unlikely. We'd have a chance to pull up our pants anyway if someone called. I'd just say that Graham was a friend and I was showing him the equipment. (which of course was true in one sense!)
Over the years, our love blossomed. We went on holidays together, and camped together with the Scouts, often sharing a tent. Our 'sexploits' knew no bounds, but the rules of this site preclude my giving any further details!
I do remember though, standing on the summit of Ben Nevis, stealing a kiss, and holding hands in the open, which was terribly daring in the early 60s. I always imagined that we'd be together forever - into the sunset! Or, if not forever, I assumed our love would become platonic once Graham discovered girls. Such happy days!