It Was the Summer of '85

The following is a tale of actual events which occurred 30 years ago. I hope that the factual nature of my story is adequate compensation for any elements of the tale which may be absent or unsatisfactory. Whilst these events are among the most vivid and memorable of my life, the passage of time inevitably alters the reliability of our recall, especially where ephemera such as thoughts and emotions are concerned. But, to the utmost of my abilities, this is a true story.

Up until that point it had been a fairly typical Friday night. It was the summer of 1985 and unemployment was rife in Margaret Thatcher's Britain. Especially in the North. Such things didn't worry the likes of us too much. We were young, we were in a band, we were going places. Back then, a typical Friday night started with a bus into town around 7pm, then a trawl round our favourite bars, catching up with different crowds in each place, then a bus home again after

last orders

. Rob lived about half a mile from my flat, so we'd get off the bus at the terminus and walk to the junction near the park where we'd go our separate ways. The effects of the beer and a slow bus journey meant we were both bursting for a piss by the time we reached this point, so we headed for a stand of trees just inside the park gates. No doubt at that point we were engrossed in conversation about something, probably girls or music. I couldn't honestly say, because what came next obliterated any details of the hours before.

We stood side by side, watering the trees and feeling the welcome release of a long held bladder.

Rob started saying something, I'm not sure what, I probably wasn't fully switched on, I certainly wasn't stone cold sober, so I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

"Eh?" I said absently.

"No, really, I've thought about it a lot, have you never thought about it?"

"About what?"

"Have you never wondered what it would be like to suck a cock? I have."

"What?" I was waiting for the punchline, I'd obviously missed the beginning of a joke or funny story.

I saw Rob look down at what I still held in my hand than back up at me.

"Not just anyone though, I'd do it with you, you know, suck your cock." He trailed off at that point, looking a bit nervous I thought. It slowly dawned on me he was being serious. This was the most unusual conversation I'd ever had with a male friend.

"Where did this come from?" I asked, puzzled but naturally curious.

"I don't know, it's kind of been there for a while, just building up I guess."

We shook ourselves off, zipped up and walked back out of the park. I was struggling to process this turn of events, I think the fog of alcohol helped my attempts at nonchalance. This was undoubtedly the most disorienting event I'd ever encountered with a friend. I found it hard to look at Rob so I focussed on where I was putting my feet.

"It's alright, I'm not going to try to kiss you. I just want to, you know, try sucking a cock, I mean your cock." He was trying to be rational but just sounded more and more nervous with every word.

"I just wanted you to know, that's all."

"Oh, yeah, right... Jeez, I had no idea."

"You OK? You freaked out now?"

"No, I mean, I don't think so. No, I'm OK," in fact I was anything but OK

"I just... Fucking hell mate! I dunno what to say." I laughed nervously and we kept on walking. We got to the junction and paused.

"Just don't say anything to

Jack!

" Rob laughed nervously. Jack was the singer in our band. A hot-headed motor-mouth with opinions on everything, he came from a rougher background than we did, where a sensitive response to male emotional crises was unheard of. The only reaction Rob would get from that quarter would be merciless mockery, or worse.

It struck me at that point just how much of a risk Rob had taken by opening up to me. Political-correctness, tolerance, and inclusion were soft-southern liberal concepts that had yet to infiltrate the gritty northern mentality. The trust he'd placed in me touched something buried deep inside, because I didn't trust anyone I knew with any secret of mine.

Rob said "Look, don't worry about it, I just needed to get it off my chest. So, you know now, I won't mention it again."

"It's OK, we're mates, I'm glad you can be honest with me. It's OK, really." And, strangely, I felt it was. We went our separate ways home. Blimey! Band practice on Wednesday night might be bit odd!

The intervening days were fairly routine, I went to my part-time job as a painter & decorator, visited various family members, nothing unusual. My state of mind was anything but routine. On Saturday morning I realised that I couldn't write this off as drunken banter, not when I considered the timing of his confession, both of us standing there, cock in hand. My twenty-four year old mind was struggling with the concept of a male friend who had sexual feelings towards me. In truth I was a bit conservative about sex, which was somewhat at odds with my age and being in a rock band.

I lived with my long term girlfriend Karen. We'd been dating since we were fifteen, and although we'd had one or two breaks during that time, neither of us had had many sexual partners. Rob had gone through a divorce about a year before, he'd turned up on our doorstep one morning and announced,

"Michelle's kicked me out, she says she wants a divorce."

So Rob came to stay with Karen and I. It was meant to be only for a few days but it ended up being a few months. He came through it quite well, mostly because Michelle made no attempt to stop him seeing his two young daughters, who became the be-all-and-end-all of his life. That and his guitar.

When I was invited to join the band I nearly turned it down because of Rob. He was two years older than me. We'd been at school together but the age difference meant we didn't mix. I was friends with his younger cousin, who was in my class. Rob was seen as a bit of a hard case at that time, a trouble maker. Certainly not someone would ever have imagined being friends with, much less being sexually propositioned by! But, join the band I did, and somehow we'd become close friends.

After his divorce Rob became more experimental with his guitar playing and the way he dressed. Ripped jeans were out, and post-punk PVC trousers were in. He'd even taken to wearing eye-liner and other touches of make-up, yet he didn't look effeminate. Probably because of his seemingly permanent stubble, he would have had to shave twice a day if he worked in a bank. If someone pissed him off you'd soon see the old Rob, the hard lad. A bit of a snarl, some harsh words and people would change their approach to him. This was no mean feat for a man wearing make-up who was only 5 foot 6 tall and skinny enough that he could often buy clothes from the children's section of the store. You can see what a strange mix of characteristics made up my friend's personality.

I wondered if his interest in me was because of his divorce, though on nights out he still seemed to have plenty of interest in the girls around town. I wondered if living with me and Karen had been a factor. Had I been undressed around the house and had this started him thinking? Before that night I probably wouldn't have thought anything if he'd been in the room while I was in a state of undress.

I was quite a bit different in appearance to Rob. Softer features, I looked much younger than my actual age and would still get asked for ID when going into clubs. I certainly didn't have that rough-and-tough look, and I would never have experimented with make up, I was aware I might look a bit too convincing. Karen used to say she'd like to put make-up on me, just for a joke she said, but I never let her. As far as I was concerned I was all-male, all-heterosexual. Of course! Look at my stunning girlfriend, yes I know all the lads were after her back at school, but I was the one who got her, I was her first. And yes, isn't she a deadringer for Kylie Minogue?

This thought process made me think about the fancy dress party back in March. It was the birthday of one of our crowd, the guy's dad ran a large pub so it turned into quite big party. The theme was

punks and punkettes

. So most of the guys did what most British men seem to do when a fancy dress party gives you male and female options, we took the female option and dressed up as girls; leather miniskirts with fishnet tights and Doc Martins, plus badly applied punk make-up in the style of Siouxsie and the Banshees. It's a strange cultural phenomenon and not usually seen as anything more than

a bit of a laugh

. It's not the done thing to take drunken mates too seriously, but when you get to the third comment such as:

"Fuckin' hell Simon! Couple more beers and I'll take you home myself!" you can't help but think your mates are a bit too pissed.

For the next few days every time I had a piss and every time I had a shower I found myself paying more than the usual amount of attention to my cock, enjoying the feel of it a bit more than usual, thinking about my cock being sucked, thinking about Rob doing it. Wondering if that was really what he meant to say? As conflicted as I felt, the thought of a blow job was very powerful. Karen was beautiful and sexy, I gave her oral frequently, but blow jobs were just not on the menu as far as she was concerned. Which wasn't unusual for girls in our part of the world at that time, it was still a big deal if any of the guys got a BJ from a girlfriend, and it was virtually unheard of for the girl to swallow.

Wednesday band practice arrived. Rob was in good spirits and appeared completely nonchalant, I started to think it had just been a moment of madness. Later, in the pub we mingled with the rest of our usual crowd. As I was standing at the bar Rob came up to talk to me.

"I think I was a bit pissed on Friday, hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable, you're a great mate, I wouldn't want to spoil anything."

"No, it's OK, nothing's spoiled." I started to relax a little, maybe I could make sense of this after all, though it surprised me to realise I felt just the tiniest bit of disappointment.

"I did mean it you know," I half-turned to look at him, his expression was sincere. I felt a small lurch in my stomach.

"Another pint Rob?" The tension of the moment was broken by the barmaid, then there were half-a-dozen other lads at the bar all trying to get her attention. Karen arrived soon after with Jack's girlfriend and I spoke to Rob no more that evening.

Friday arrived and with it a significant helping of nervous anticipation. Rob arrived earlier than usual at our flat, Karen was still at home, getting ready to go out with the girls.

We walked from my place to the bus terminus.

"I'm house-sitting for my Dad's friend Eileen, it's just along here opposite the old church."

"Oh yeah, one of those Victorian stone-builds?"

"Yeah."

After living at our flat Rob moved back to his Dad's house where his younger brother Will lived too. It wasn't ideal but he had little option.

The evening was surprisingly normal. Despite the obvious elephant-in-the-room, nothing was said by either of us, not even on the bus home. We'd had our usual decent amount of beers and some larking around by other Friday-night revellers had the whole bus in good spirits. Because Rob was house-sitting, our walk from the bus was longer.

Instinct gave the extra distance significance, an awareness that were approaching a metaphorical crossroad. I expected he'd invite me in, people tend to do that when they're in new home, albeit a temporary lodging. It wouldn't have seemed unusual under ordinary conditions but I knew if he did, tonight it would carry meaning, and if I accepted it would almost be an unspoken agreement that something was likely to happen.

"Are you coming in for a beer?"

"Yeah I've got room for another one" I replied. And just like that we went into the house.

Rob appeared from the kitchen with two tinnies, he gave me one and sat down on the two-seater sofa. I knew why I'd come into the house just as I'm sure he knew why he'd invited me in. The sensible option was to sit on the small sofa, open the beer and be honest with each other, I could just sit back, provocatively stroke my crotch and say:

"Tell me again what it is you'd like to do?" and let Rob make the first move.

Instead I sat on the chair opposite. So for the next half an hour, two close friends hummed and harred awkwardly, both too scared or nervous to admit they were excited about a new sexual experience. I think I had expected, or wanted to... well, I suppose, to be seduced. I think I had instinctively taken the position which, for our culture, was that of the feminine partner. I had been propositioned and now I expected to be persuaded and encouraged to lower my inhibitions, an initial reluctance followed by an inevitable submission to circumstances. Damn it! This was

his

idea, I'd done my part by coming here, now he should make good on his self-confessed desire to have my prick in his mouth.

Nothing happened. Eventually my reticence got the better of me and I said I'd better be heading home. A potential firework had become a damp squib. Rob got up to walk me to the door. He must have understood that he needed to do something more before opportunity literally walked out the door. His bedroom was on the ground floor close to the front door. He paused by the bedroom door and said innocuously,

"It's quite a big room," and went in. I followed.

A few more banal exchanges passed between us, then he must have found some sort of daring or courage because he said:

"Well, if you're going now, I'm getting into bed." And with that he stripped off in front of me surprisingly quickly and got into bed. This was the point of no return. If I turned and left, we could still pass it off as a bit of a joke, with no harm done. But if I got into bed too, everything would change, and there was no way of knowing if this would be something we'd both regret.

I don't know how long I paused for, it seemed like a

very

long time, but without any further discussion I stripped off too and got into bed beside my naked best friend. He lay on his back, I was half-turned towards him, my pulse was racing and a sense of pressure was building up from the pit of my stomach. For a seemingly long time nothing happened. Eventually the mounting tension became more than I could control and something broke through within me. Lost in the moment I discarded all my inhibitions.

I swung my right leg over his and pulled myself closer, Rob moved closer too but made no move. Then I did the wildest sexual thing I'd ever done in my twenty-four years. Without hesitation I reached my hand out and grabbed a hold of my friend's cock. The sensation shocked me to my very core, it was nothing like the sensation of playing with my own cock. It was so hot, and felt almost impossibly hard, as if it was carved from a lump of wood. I squeezed it hard around the middle of the shaft. It gave slightly, but not by much. Rob squirmed and let out a small but very satisfied moan, thrusting upwards and towards me.

A voice inside my head exclaimed "Fuck me! This feels amazing!"

Nothing I had considered in the week leading up to this moment had prepared me for how I felt now, I loved it instantly. I gently pulled back his foreskin and started to slowly and firmly move my hand up and down his shaft, completely lost in the feel of a cock other than my own filling my hand, it felt big. All reservations were gone now and I moved in closer, grinding my own cock into his thigh because he hadn't yet returned the favour by touching me. At this moment I didn't care, it wasn't about scoring points, it was all about this new, indescribable and unexpected pleasure.

I pulled back the duvet and looked at what I was doing with my hand. Up and down, seeing the foreskin cover then uncover his glans. I now knew how it felt in my hand, but there was something else I had to know. I moved down the bed and confidently planted my mouth over the head of his penis. I think Rob must have felt it was his birthday, I moved my head up and down his swollen shaft, taking it as deep as I could before licking the tip and the underside of the glans, an area I knew to be incredibly sensitive from my own regular masturbation.

I'd been blown away by feel of his dick in my hand, but the feel of it in my mouth sent my brain into sensory overload. There was something so good and right about the way it felt, primordial and natural. I was loving this and wasn't about to stop. I was more concerned about the pleasure I felt at the sensation of that thing sliding in and out of my mouth than I was about how it felt for Rob. His thrusting gyrating hips told me he was loving it too. I thought about Karen's reluctance to suck my cock, I couldn't believe that girls didn't love doing this too. I couldn't help it, I dragged my mouth off his cock and blurted out,

"God! That feels so good, I don't know why girls complain about doing it." Rob laughed at that.

I thought it was time he reciprocated, so I changed my position until we were in a 69. Rob readily accepted my dick in his mouth. I reached one hand around to grab his firm buttocks, with my other hand I cupped and squeezed his balls in the palm of my hand while circling his shaft with my thumb and forefinger to pull his foreskin back. I had recently discovered during my own masturbation just how sensitive the underside of the glans is near the frenulum, I flicked at this part of Rob's penis with my tongue, I wanted him to get as much pleasure from being sucked as I was getting from sucking him. I didn't say it, it seemed too obvious, but I wanted to make him come, I wanted him to come in my mouth and I was ready to swallow it.

I changed tactic and kept my mouth over the head of his cock while I wanked him into my mouth, hoping to take him over the edge. Oddly, I've no recollection about the actual length in inches of Rob's penis, but I remember taking it into my mouth all the way down to the root and feeling my nose buried in his balls, but it didn't make me gag or choke so it was a comfortable size. I felt Rob's hands caressing and kneading my buttocks, I couldn't help but thrust my hips at his face, forcing my cock further into his mouth. On the third thrust I felt him gag and pull back. It must have been too much at that point. He squirmed around until he was kneeling up on the bed. I moved around onto my back, knees up, one leg either side of Rob. I think he liked that better.

He shuffled closer until the tops of his thighs were in contact with my hamstrings. Even compared to

soixante-neuf

this felt extremely sensual and intimate. I looked up to find him grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he reached out to play with my raging hard-on.

"You've no idea how much I've wanted to do this, I've fancied you for ages."

His hand continued to stroke my shaft up and down, firmly, but in a slow, sensual manner.

Rob's confession surprised me a little. I'd expected he'd be thinking more about the sexual aspect because that was how I'd been thinking, I hadn't realized he felt a genuine physical attraction to me. Strange as it was, it felt good to be found attractive by my friend. Even though I didn't feel the same, I didn't say anything, I didn't want to spoil the experience.

"All those times I've looked at your arse and thought about getting you naked and into bed, and you had no idea." He was still grinning, I got the feeling it was a relief for him to get it out into the open. I just lay there squirming under his touch, and drew my heels up until they were touching his buttocks as waves of pleasure flowed and ebbed. I felt reckless.

A thought occurred to me: How far did Rob want to take things? The position I was in was practically offering my arse to him on a plate. I imagined him moving in closer, rubbing his erect cock up and down in between my butt cheeks, playfully at first, then more insistently, before finding my hole, making gentle probes at the opening before asking,