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Before I met Sean, I’d never considered sex with another male. The social mores of my childhood had infected me with a virulent strain of denial that reason failed to cure. The lashing taunts of my schooldays still cut to the quick: “You fucking-puffter”, the ultimate shaming.I had just turned twenty and needed perspective. After two years with Milly, I had become someone I hardly recognised. I enrolled on a psychology course in the search for even the hint of an answer. I was hoping for Maslow and Jung, got Skinner and Pavlov instead.That’s where I met him.I was hardly out of my teens, drawn to him in spite of myself. There was something about Sean beyond gender. I was captivated by his fairness of flesh, his startling blue eyes, the flaxen hair that hung fine and straight to his collar. He had a lithe physique that belied hidden strength. It was that of a dancer. His face had yet to lose its youthful appeal. One smile and you could forgive him anything. Otherness shone from his eyes, an indefinable infectious spark that made me feel happy. That first time I entered the classroom, I saw him watching me as I cast my eyes about wondering where I should sit. I did not hesitate to take the seat beside him.The following week, in our break, he told me how he had left home at sixteen, fleeing an evil from which only the utterly ruined could fail to try and escape. His parents were Witnesses, went door to door teaching the Last Days and intolerance. By the time I met him, he was nearly eighteen and living alone in a rented room in the basement of Trent House, a once elegant Victorian villa aspiring to dereliction. In the fifties it had been partitioned into bedsits, its inners becoming transit cells for the socially deranged, a mansion of hell one level higher than the one he had flown.Sean saved his money, was determined to ascend, soar beyond his origins. During the week, he worked as a labourer on building sites. Saturday nights he shovelled battered cod and chips into greaseproof and broadsheets. Money was his sole focus, the rocket fuel to free him from the gravity of his past. And every weekday evening a night class. His goal was to become a vet.Soon I was telling Milly about Sean. And even though I did not confess it, she saw my need.”What is it about this Sean guy?” she asked (she had yet to meet him). “You’re always banging on about him.””Am I?””Do you fancy him or something?””Don’t be daft!” I felt myself blushing.”Oh my god. You do, don’t you!” She came and kissed me, her tongue betraying her delight, telling tales of how the thought of another boy and me excited her, one more item on a growing list of her sexual things-to-do.She said we should share him like we shared our secrets. Milly was full of secrets just then, and I knew them all, every misshapen whim, the name of every girl and woman, boy and man, she hankered after.I needed Milly’s help. She was the fabulous lure that would make him bite.We were out together with friends the first time she met Sean. I’d asked him along, wanted to expand his circle of friends, maybe get him into the punk band I’d formed the year before. He’d told me he could sing and play the piano, had even written songs.To see him and Milly sat side by side only stoked my obsession. His likeness to hers was that of flesh and blood. And as she appraised him, in that moment of introduction, I saw how her gaze and isvecbahis words were a gift he would not squander, a memory he would hoard and bring out when the need took him. When Milly was in London, I would fantasise about Sean Fantasising about her, see him in my mind wanking to the thought of fucking her while I looked on.When she had the measure of him, Milly turned to me and smiled. No words were needed. The wild delight in her eyes was enough.The following Tuesday in the pub after class, I asked him what he thought of Milly. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he said. Some part of her had found a new home.I wanted to make it blatant, leave him no wriggle room, say to him come back tonight and you can have her. But how could I explain that it would be conditional, me an equal partner in the deal?All I could manage was, “She likes you too.” It was the end of summer, the one everyone remembers, the one that people still write and talk about all these years on. Late October and six weeks into our friendship with Sean, Milly and I were hatching plans. He had become part of our inner sexual landscape, the essential focus in the build-up to our lovemaking.I would ask him to stay over. He kept putting me off, seemingly impervious to our inuendos, our blatant flirting.An Indian summer, the countryside tinder dry. For three nights in a row, Milly and I watched the moorland surrounding Cragmount House awash with flames, the nighttime landscape becoming a canvas by Bosch. The evening that Backthwaite Copse ignited, I prayed the wind would not drive the conflagration our way, bring the fire down on us circuitously via Homestead Wood. In the master bedroom of Cragmount House, through its picture window, Milly and I lay and watched the apocalyptic scene from our bed as we spoke of Sean. It was the night before his eighteenth birthday.If not for me inheriting Cragmount, Milly and I would never have become the creatures we did. She was my cousin, the daughter of my mother’s twin sister. Mother and daughter had come to stay in the days before the funeral after the death of my parents and sister.A week after the funeral Aunt Jean returned home and Milly stayed on, my childhood friend becoming my lover. Later I will tell you what Milly brought to my bed. But more than that, it was Cragmount that bound her to me, its rooms and grounds hoarding so many memories.I was eighteen, Milly nineteen when they all died. My parents were sailing the world in a yacht named Tinkerbell. My beautiful older sister Melissa and her boyfriend Tom had flown out and joined them in the Caribbean for the final leg home. But I had my A-levels and had stayed home. No one can say how their boat floundered: a storm, a rogue wave — or maybe an over-playful playful whale. That would be ironic. Melissa was into all that nature stuff. Her childhood dream had been to become a Marine Biologist. ******* It was the evening of Sean’s birthday. I think he was expecting a party.Milly had fetched him from Trent House in my old MG, brought him to us here in the hills while I prepared a meal. The car’s soft top down, it had been a journey through ash and smoke, the hillsides still in flames; though the fires isveçbahis giriş no longer threatened the house, the inferno having veered, driven away by strong winds that stoked its ferocity. Now the twilight sky above Stanton, two miles away, was painted scarlet, the surrounding hills darkened and backlit, the battle against the flames raging up Bladderthwaite Forest way. The dinner was awkward. I felt guilty, regretted not asking more friends, our bandmates Carl and Bradley, their girlfriends Nico and Trixie. But I never said there would be others. I had no scruples, did not regret the sham that risked his distrust. I knew Milly’s beauty and charm would be enough to please him, win his cock’s insistence, ignite a craving that would lead him to our bed.Our meal over, we took wine to The Turret, the incongruous gothic four-story tower my father had tacked on to the Art Deco house many years before. From its uppermost floor, we gazed out into the night. The fire had turned since Sean’s arrival, was skirting the house five hundred yards to the east. I thought of war and carnage as sparks from the wind-stoked inferno cascaded into the charcoal sky. The crack of conifers taken by flames reached us through open panes like distant pyrotechnics.”It’s like the end of the world,” Sean said as he gazed into the distance.”We could be the only three left alive on the planet,” Milly said. “Up to us to start mankind over again.””Okay for some,” Sean said, his eyes fixed on me.”You could contribute too,” Milly said.”And you’d be okay with that?” he asked.”Our children would be extraordinarily beautiful.”She went to him and kissed his cheek, and I thought what their offspring would be, a nest full of Cuckoos.”We’d best go back down,” I said.In the lounge, I poured tequila into tall iced glasses, laced them with lemon and salt.The thought of herself as the new Eve stayed with Milly. She asked, “Have you read that poem . . . the one where people on a bus learn the end of the world is about to happen.””McGough’s, ‘Lunchtime’,” I offered.”What happens?””Do you even need to ask!” she said.She placed her glass on the side table, stood and went to him. “Dance with me, Sean. Dance with me as if tonight really is the end of the world.” She reached out her hand, and he let her pull him to his feet.She turned to me and said, “Richard. Put some music on. That Bowie track I like so much.”I did as she said. Diamond Dogs: Side two, Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me. The notes of its intro filled the room.”I love this song.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Bowie’s bisexual. Did you know?” There was silence as they began to sway to the music. Then, “Would you ever —”” — With a man?” He looked my way.”I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing you. Just hold me.” He was uncertain at first but was beginning to understand. It was hardly dancing, two people becoming close, the music a catalyst. I watched her hips slowly undulating against his until the pair were locked together. They were a perfect fit, one creature. And when it happened, their kissing had numinosity, an otherworldly beauty that was breathtaking to see. Although Milly was never mine to give, yet still I became afraid that I had been too rash, had made of her a too generous a gift.She whispered, and they both looked my way, their faces cheek to cheek, their eyes pools of dark tranquillity deep enough to hold all Milly’s secrets. isveçbahis yeni giriş I sipped my tequila and watched them resume the pretence of dancing, unable to believe Sean would ever consent to us both.More whispering and I saw her filthy grin. “Sean says you shouldn’t be on your own on the night the world comes to an end.”I was uncomprehending, sat calcified and staring. They began to kiss again, and I thought it cruel. He lifted the hem of her summer dress waist-high so that I saw how she wore no panties, its ethereal white cotton bunched tissue in his left fist, It was a revelation. I had no idea she had removed them. I watched the flat of his other hand run the length of her arse-crack, up and down, over and over.I approached him from behind, my body liquid with excitement, falling into resonance with their movements and mood. My hands found his waist, thumbs hooking the leather of his belt, my palms flat against his upper hip sides. Soon my cheek rested between his shoulders. I breathed him in. He was unlike any girl. I pushed my hips into him, my cock beside itself with its need for him. Stifled by denim, it yearned hopelessly to be released.”We should go up,” Milly said.Only if that is what Sean wants?” I told her.He turned from her and looked me fearlessly in the eyes as he said, “This will be the end of both our worlds.”He pulled me to him so that we were eye to eye. I felt his constricted cock through his jeans against mine as his tongue dashed between my lips. And then it was I who was the passive one, the one seduced, the negative to his positive. I surrendered to him, allowed him the role of male, let him kiss me as a man. It made my mind spiral to surrender to him like that. And then there was no safe harbour and I was a pitching boat on stormy waters, waves of lust washing over me one after another. Each one threatened to sweep me from the deck of myself, on out into an unknowable ocean. I hated what that kiss meant, the way it excited me more than any woman’s had ever had.We undressed him at the foot of our bed. Seeing his cock for the first time but not daring reach for it. Instead, I ran my hands down the front of his body, from shoulders to abdomen, in awe of his Hellenistic beauty. My fingers travelled, defining muscle his muscle’s ridges as they moved, those subcutaneous wave traces, ripples in hard wet sand that girdled his stomach.Together, Milly and I explored his flesh, our hands often crossing, lingering one upon the other in a moment of bonding, a show of mutual satisfaction at the success of all our scheming. And then me daring at last. My hand to his cock, nesting his balls in my palm, weighing them gently before drawing my palm upwards, bringing them up a little way too. My finger around his shaft, enclosing it, gripping it too tightly, amazed by its improbable circumference, its substance and density; but most of all by its silkiness, the delicacy of its wrapping. His erection was a manifestation of the lust we had stoked. Now I understood his need, held it in my clenched fingers, not quite a fist.Me kneeling before him, studying what I was about to taste. I had never been so close to another man’s penis! I inched my head forward and began teasing its tip with my tongue, letting it sweep the shaft, finally enclosing his circumcised rawness and sealing my lips. As I sucked on him, I breathed deeply to capture the bouquet of his hips, drawing his natural scent deep into my lungs. Inside my mouth, my tongue was showing off, trying to impress. It made him moan with pleasure. My saliva became copious. I had to swallow and swallow.
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