[This is the continuation of 'David the Graduate Student Ch. 01,' which should be read first]
Chapter 31 Jon
A weekend in London 1
As the Pentecost term progressed, I suddenly realized that when I was not in the lab or doing calculations on the computer, I was continually engaged in manipulating people. And poor David, bless him, was being pushed around, either by me, or by Fabioni or by Charles Crabtree. When I was not running his life, I was involved in the Fitness Club, or the Afforestation Trust, or the drystone walling. At least I did not have the builders to deal with any more. So as May 12, our anniversary, drew near, I said to David, "We need a weekend off. What would you like to do and where would you like to go, bearing in mind that we only have about 60 hours? We could go to the house, we could go to London, we could go to Amsterdam or Antwerp, we could visit Arnold and Robin in Reading or we could do something entirely different. As long as we have time to eat and drink and privacy to fuck, I will go anywhere that you want."
David said, "Let's go to London, take a suite in an expensive hotel, go to the Opera and visit this exhibition that I've been reading about 'The male nude since 1600' at the National Gallery. Let's eat in your pet Italian restaurant, have lunch in a pub, have room service breakfasts and shag ourselves silly. I'm only a poor student, but I'll pay for the lunches and dinners and my super stud can pay for the rest! I can't suggest a weekend of high living and leave you to foot the bill, I would feel like a rent boy. And I love you so much that anything that you want of mine, you can have for free, as often as you want!"
"Right," I said "I'll get on the phone to Covent Garden and try and get seats for the Friday night performance with us eating there beforehand, and we'll eat at my Italian restaurant on both Saturday and Sunday, and do a second opera on the Saturday night. You can go to All Saints on Sunday morning, and we'll do the exhibition on Saturday or Sunday afternoon. We'll eat early on Sunday night and spend the evening in bed. For the first time for years St Boniface's choir will have to do without you! We can get a train back about 9 am on the Monday and you'll be in the lab by noon. How's the work going, by the way?"
"Not too bad," David replied. "We're writing a second paper at the moment. I'm enjoying this enzyme work. But I could do with a break, from both the lab and from singing. The idea of listening to someone else singing appeals to me enormously!"
I also telephoned and booked a suite for us at the Caroline, a five-star hotel in Mayfair for three nights and booked the restaurant.
We left Camford on the 2 pm train to Fennington on the Friday. The train was quiet, and for the first time for weeks I was able to sit back, relax and enjoy contemplating the sweet face and prick-raising figure of my boy. I reached out and got hold of his hand (we were in facing seats). David smiled at me so sweetly that I at once felt my cock stiffening in my pants. He was still feeling elated at having got into the Dunchester competition. Apparently Fabioni was not the slightest bit surprised: he told David that he didn't enter his pupils for a competition unless he knew that they were certain to pass the audition. He told David that the sudden switch of numbers at the audition from his stated item to the reserve item was a trick of some adjudicators, to try to undermine the confidence of the best candidates by springing a surprise on them. He also said that he knew that it would not work with David, because David knew 'Panis vivus' much better than he imagined. It seems that the wily old teacher knew David better than David knew himself!
The Caroline Hotel was only a short distance from the train terminus, and as our bags were not heavy, we walked there, which would have surprised the man in the reception if we had told him that when he enquired whether we had a car. A bell-boy took our bags up to our suite, and I unselfconsciously tipped him. By now it was 4 pm and we had booked our table at Covent Garden for 5-30, so we just had time for a quick shower and change of clothes before leaving. The meal was good and we had time for coffee before the performance began. The opera was 'Carmen,' something we might not have chosen to watch if we had had a choice, but it had an international star cast and was extremely enjoyable, even if we tended to sum it up as being about the problems of falling in love with the wrong person. "It's a good job that the audience is not expected to like the characters in opera," David said to me, "because the only likeable character in 'Carmen' is Micaëla, and even she seems a bit wet." My only reply (I regret to say) was that there were some nice boys in the chorus, one or two with nice arses.
We rode back to the hotel on the Central Line, decided not to drink in the bar but to go straight to our room and slip out of our suits (we had been sitting in the stalls at the opera and felt obliged to dress smartly). I poured us each a glass of beer from the mini bar (nothing special) and filled in the order card for room service breakfast at 9-30 am and hung it outside the door. Undressed, we sat on the sofa in the sitting room and gazed through the window at the lights of the city below.
I put my arm round David and began to nibble his neck, inhaling the mixed scent of 'Storing pour homme' and that of tobacco smoke, which pervaded everything in those unenlightened days, even though our suite was non-smoking. I pushed to one side the chain of his crucifix with my lips, and he giggled as my nibbles turned into gentle bites. "That's nice!" he said, "don't stop!" I moved my right arm to encircle his waist and got hold of his cock with my left hand. It started to stiffen at once as I continued to chew his neck. My own dick was as stiff as a ramrod and oozing pre-come. David suddenly pulled his head away and bent forward and started to lick the clear liquid from the tip of my glans. I ran my hand down his back until I reached the cleft of his arse and gently pushed my finger into the crack and wiggled it in through his anal sphincter. Then I pulled him upright and started to nibble his left nipple. I made him lie down on the sofa, half sitting up, his back against a cushion. I then knelt on the sofa, straddling his chest so that my rampant tool was within a centimetre or two of his face. He grinned and took it into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against the rim of my 'copper's helmet'. He began the licking, sucking and chewing that made his blow-jobs so delightful. It was amazing how his technique of giving head had improved over the last five years. We had not made love for a couple of days, so it did not take long for David to bring me to the point of orgasm. "I am gonna come," I muttered to him, "Do you want me to squirt in your mouth or over your face?"
"Mouth, please," he said, "I love the taste of your come!" It did not take long for the miracle to happen. I shot a massive load of seed into David's eager and welcoming mouth. He smiled blissfully as he savoured the mouthful before swallowing it.
"My turn now!" he exclaimed, as I took his stiffening cock into my mouth. A deep sensation of love and desire seemed to spread from my mouth through the whole of my body to my fingers and toes, almost like an electric current. I sucked hard at his slimy, lumpy manhood and rubbed my tongue against the rim of his glans, and wiggled his foreskin with my tongue. David grunted with pleasure, "My darling Jon, I love you so much!" he muttered as he caressed the back of my neck and held my head against his crotch. I tried not to get too active with my mouth, because David obviously wanted to prolong the blow-job, but after a couple of minutes, he could hold back no longer and violently filled my greedy mouth with his fuck-juice. It was quite thick and it took some time for me to swallow most of it, just retaining a little on my lips to give back to him when we kissed. This we did for some minutes, enjoying the taste and feel of each other's lips, and eagerly exploring each other's mouth with our tongues.
By now it was approaching 1 am, and we were both feeling sleepy, so I set the alarm for 7-30 and we settled down wrapped in each other's arms in one of the two king-sized beds.
Next day we got up, washed, shaved and made love (in the unslept-in bed) before breakfast. David humped me rather energetically and I replied by letting him suck me off once more. When breakfast arrived, we polished it off and spent the rest of the day at the National Gallery. The admission charge to the exhibition 'The Male Nude since 1600' was expensive, but well worth the money. There was a long queue for admission, which gave us ample opportunity to survey the viewers. There were a lot of obvious gays among them, as well as several discrete male couples like ourselves, although there was no shortage of females either. It could scarcely be described as pornographic or even erotic, since there was not a single erection to be seen among the exhibits, although the same could not be said about the viewers!
The exhibition consisted of sculpture as well as paintings, and in many ways the sculpture was more arresting. David commented to me quietly about the size of the dicks on most of the sculptures. "Why have they all got dicks that look like those of little boys?" he asked. "Why don't they have something realistic?"
