After my gap year between school and University, in which I had met both Steve (“First Fumblings”) and Ollie (“That was Quick”) I became a fresher, had a room in College and joined the College rugby team. Rugby is a tough, physical contact sport requiring courage and specific talents according to where you play on the field. Before a game the changing room is fairly quiet but afterwards it’s pretty boisterous and rowdy. There’s a lot of manhood on show in the showers and changing-rooms and most players just let it all hang out. That’s how I came to notice Phil, who had the most remarkable pair of balls I’d ever seen. Everyone noticed them and, I think, felt inwardly jealous that he had such a splendid sac between his legs. It gave promise of fantastic virility, even though his dick was relatively small.
He was different from Steve, who was good-natured, easy-going and a bit credulous. The eldest of four boys in his family, his father had been an Olympic athlete. He was a good athlete himself and very brainy, very ambitious but less open-hearted than Steve. On his wall in his room he kept a calendar on which he marked with an asterisk the days on which he had had a wank. I saw it once. It showed that he would lay off for about five days and then there were asterisks for the next three days! After my experiences with Steve and Ollie I was intrigued and wanted to see how those enormous balls of his performed. Amazingly, an opportunity soon arose for me to find out.
During the Easter vacation of our first year we went on tour in Wales, playing several matches and seeing the famous tourist sites. A highlight was a two-day trip to a small offshore island which had once been used by the Army for target-training. The former barracks still stood there, including a long dormitory with roughly sprung beds, a rudimentary kitchen, a refectory and a small room full of pipes for drying out clothes. The only inhabitants left on the island were the two keepers who worked the light-house on the rocks facing the Atlantic ocean. I remember well the open-boat voyage to reach it, the spray that drenched our clothes and the rocking motion over the waves. When we reached the barracks the first thing we did was to dump our gear on our chosen bed and, as luck would have it, I landed up next to Phil. There were no curtains in the dormitory, so when we were all in bed that night I could see the outline of his body in his bed. And while the rest of the team settled down to slumber I watched, hoping to see the movement which would indicate that he was having a wank.
He was quite restless and kept turning in his bed, so I knew he had not gone to sleep. Every now and then he would sigh – and then, about twenty minutes after lights-out, I saw his left hand creep down the bed and make a hump over the area of his groin; and then his right hand started moving, gently at first and then more vigorously. Soon he was hard at it, so, greatly daring, I leaned across and touched his bed. He got the message and the movement stopped. Consider, then, my surprise when, after a pause, he leant out of his bed and whispered to me "You can DO me if I can see you." Maybe this was because he knew I had an eight incher, but "doing" - our word for mutual masturbation - was an extraordinary offer because it was frowned upon as implying homosexual practices and none of us wanted to be considered in any way "queer".
