Robert's Revelation Chapter 7
Robert's Revelations
This story is set in rural England in 1982. It is, obviously, written in British English with British words and spellings. The cultural references are also from that time and place so I hope that references to cars, TV shows or music won't spoil the story for those who don't know them. Follow the links provided for more information or just ignore them. (And yes, I know you can use a search engine just as well as I can. The links are for convenience, not to insult anyone.)
As always, this is fiction and any resemblance to real people is coincidental. In some chapters controversial opinions will be expressed. Please remember they are the characters' opinions, not the author's. Some are opinions I profoundly disagree with but I've tried to state them fairly, not parody them.
Comments and feedback are welcomed and can be sent to: robertsymes65@use.startmail.com
If you like reading these stories please remember the site can't exist if it's not funded and chip in here, I did. Thanks.
Chapter Seven – Curiosity
And then it came to me. I had felt queasy even looking at those magazines earlier. Time for some serious 'aversion therapy' to reinforce the feeling. If I could immerse myself in the sordid world they surely represented (at least according to various articles I'd seen from time to time in the paper) then I would be revolted and could write off last night as a mistake caused by teenage hormones, not to be repeated. After all, we've all heard about what goes on in boarding schools (and prisons) and most of those boys grow up normal. At school they just meet their needs the only way they can.
Yes, surely that was it. I got carried away with the novelty and the shock of finding out about David and Tony and when they offered me the chance of gratification I was naturally tempted. No girl has yet wanted to do anything like that, I wish they would. ('And what about Tuesday?' asked the inner cynic. More of the same. And anyway I was tricked and coerced.) And it was safer to look at this stuff while my parents were out. It would take some explaining if they saw it, and it would be hard to avoid dropping David in it. That settled it. I could do school work later, or tomorrow.
I carefully avoided the young man's picture and opened the first magazine. But I didn't find the sleaze I expected. A few of the ads were a bit suspect but mostly it was adverts for pubs and clubs and a couple of bookshops. The articles were about reviews of books, music concerts, new places to go. And politics, lots of politics. A minority that feels itself to be demonised, oppressed and picked on trying to band together and stand up for itself. Reading the articles you surely had to sympathise even if you didn't agree.
And the stories about the police are shocking, if true. You don't see that on Juliet Bravo, or read about it in the Mail, either. But then there was that Professionals episode, but that was about a corrupt force, and anyway it's made up. But where are the articles about 'disgusting, unnatural sexual practices' and 'corrupting the youth' I was expecting? I need to be disgusted but I can't find them. So far I just feel intrigued, and increasingly sympathetic. Perhaps the sordid stuff is in one of the other magazines?
If it is I can't find it. Just more of the same. By now I was getting more and more sympathetic and outraged on behalf of the gay community which, if the articles were true, which of course I couldn't be sure of, was being victimised for no good reason. But just because you sympathise with a group that doesn't make you one of them. I felt sorry for factory farm chickens, too.
I looked at my watch. Half past three! Where did all that time go? Mum and Dad were due back soon so I thought I'd better hide the mags away and make a start on my schoolwork. I hadn't had any lunch either but now it was too late. At least I'd have a good appetite for dinner which should reassure Mum.
I started my homework, glad of some normality. Of course. Normality was what I needed. Immersing myself in this gay world had probably been a mistake. Do that enough and I was bound to start to identify with them. Get through my work (and there wasn't as much as I'd thought, a couple of hours should do it), watch some wholesome Saturday evening TV, and go to church with Mum tomorrow. I didn't often bother, I kept arguing with the sermons in my head and that made it all seem even less plausible than it did anyway, but I felt the need and it would make Mum happy. She'd given up on Dad so it would be nice for her to have someone accompany her.
I finished my schoolwork just in time for dinner, at which I told Mum I was planning to go to church with her. But she looked worried, not happy. “Are you worried about something, Robert?” she asked. “You looked upset when you came in this morning and you look like you've got something on your mind. And you don't often come to church, nice as it is to have you with me. There's nothing wrong is there?”
“There's nothing wrong with his appetite anyway” observed Dad, as I helped myself to a large second helping of goulash and mashed potatoes. Plenty of exercise and no breakfast or lunch will do that.
Nothing wrong? I bloody hope not, I thought. Aloud I said “I told you, this morning was hay fever. And I spent the afternoon on schoolwork, so I suppose that's on my mind, I've got my 'o' levels quite soon. Maybe some divine intervention might help with that. Anyway I've finished it now so I thought some mindless telly this evening and church tomorrow might be a nice distraction.”
“Mindless telly, is it?” Dad was annoyed. “Thanks for the compliment!”
“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant it's entertaining and doesn't take any effort to watch. Isn't that why you like it? You said it was.”
“Leave him alone Alan” said Mum. “He's not insulting you.” She turned to me. “Well if you're sure you're okay, darling. It'll be lovely to have you with me.”
After dinner Dad and I washed up, only fair as Mum had cooked, and Dad tried to reassure me that 'o' levels were nothing to worry about and could always be resat if the worst happened, which he was sure it wouldn't. Then we sat down to watch TV, effortless and relaxing. By ten I could hardly keep my eyes open so excused myself and went to bed. I lay down and soon drifted off. I must have had what I'd been reading in mind because:
I found myself outside a pub somewhere I didn't recognise. Was this London? Manchester? I thought it might be but I didn't know. There was music coming from the pub, a live band I hadn't heard before, but I liked it. I didn't dare go in, being under age, but I couldn't hang around in the street either so I slipped through a side gate into a yard. I could still hear the music, quietly, and there were frosted glass windows, probably the pub toilets. The music got louder at times, probably when someone opened the door to them. Beyond the windows, a solid, locked door.
I heard the gate I'd come in through close, and looked round to see a young man in a polo shirt and shorts bolting it from the inside. He turned to face me and I was sure I knew him. Of course, it was the man from the photo in the magazine. He turned and stared at me. “I'm Billy” he said. “Billy Porter. But you can call me Demon. You know what I want don't you? And I know what you really want. And you're trespassing, so you'll co-operate if you don't want the police involved. Take your clothes off.”
I couldn't do that! But I couldn't not do it, there was no choice. Nervously I took my shirt off and put it down on an empty beer barrel. He stared at me with his neutral expression. “Shoes and socks now.” I removed them and put them on the barrel. “Trousers next, let's see you in your skivvies.” He was implacable. Resistance is useless, especially when you don't want to resist.
Then I remembered. I did want to resist. “Just my trousers? Don't you want me naked? Can't we just get it over with?”
“Of course I do. But there's no rush. I want to see everything. So, trousers first. Or I bang on that door behind you and tell the landlord I've caught a burglar so call the police.”
Defeated, I dropped my trousers and stepped out of them. He smiled for the first time, derisively. “Well, well,” he laughed, “tighty-whities I believe our trans-Atlantic cousins call these. How cute and virginal. They suit you! Now get them off and let's see what you've got.”
I dropped them and stepped out of them with alacrity. No point delaying the inevitable, and anyway I wanted to minimise the embarrassment of being seen in such childish underwear. I stood with my hands behind me; by now I knew what was expected.
He looked me over as I stood there and he smiled faintly, but this time with appreciation not disdain. And once again my body responded. I felt the familiar tingly feeling and soon became erect. His smile got wider. “I told you I know what you want, didn't I?”
I pointed to the front of his shorts, which were visibly tenting with his excitement. “I want that!” I wanted to get it out and play with it. I remembered the slightly sadistic pleasure I'd got from tormenting David and making him beg me way back..... last night? It really was, it seemed much longer somehow. If anyone deserved that kind of treatment it was this man. I'd thought of David as a “cocky arrogant tosser” at the time but he had nothing on this cocky arrogant tosser.
“Not yet you don't” he told me. “You don't want it yet. Not properly. But you will, in time. Don't rush it. But for now.... Remember how you enjoyed the fantasy of 'wanking for Billy' that night? Different Billy but now you get the reality. And it will be much better.” He pointedly looked me over. “And you look like you're about ready for it. If you don't get relief soon you might just explode. So go ahead, get your relief, show me your technique and wank for Billy NOW!”
I accepted the inevitable and moved to obey. But I found that I was dressed. I looked up in confusion but Billy, the yard and the pub were gone and I was watching the Punch and Judy show we'd seen at the seaside last year. The policeman was beating a puppet of 'Billy' viciously with his truncheon. “That's the way to do it!” cackled Mr Punch, as Judy looked on and the crocodile snuck away with the sausages.
I woke with a start, confused and disoriented, as one does waking suddenly from an intense dream. It was pitch dark as I gradually sorted dream from reality. I felt for the bedside light and switched it on. Just after three, said my alarm clock. The house was silent, everyone asleep. Just as well, because I really did need relief, even though it was only about twelve hours since the last time. I crept to the bathroom by the dim but adequate light of the bedside lamp for some paper. And then, in my mind, the young man from the magazine watched me “show [him my] technique” and it didn't take long. I wondered what he'd think about it if he knew.
And then I wondered what the hell to think about myself. These feelings were all so new. I mean there were boys I liked (girls too). And obviously some boys (and girls too) were better looking than others, but everyone sees that. And sometimes a boy that I somehow yearned to be friends with. But nothing sexual, I had assumed that would come later, with girls. But what if I was wrong?
Glueing down that metaphorical pressure cooker had resulted in one awesome explosion and now I struggled to make sense of it. My behaviour this week fit any one of David's three choices (gay, bi, adventurous) perfectly well. Add a fourth choice: show off. Everything I'd done was either 'look at me' or 'look what I can do to you' wasn't it? I hadn't done 'that thing' nor felt like I wanted to had I? And I'd had plenty of fantasies of showing off to girls hadn't I?
Yes, that was probably it. What had David said about metaphors? Most likely I wanted to show off and be noticed but I was too shy, hence all the fantasies of being forced.
But some part of my brain chose this moment to remind me that I'd never looked at a girl and felt like I wanted to do 'that thing' with her either. And when I 'couldn't keep my eyes off' someone at school that someone wasn't a girl, was it?
I needed to resolve this confusion but I didn't know how to. The girls I knew were not likely to let me have sex with them as an experiment just to see if I liked it and the boys (understatement) probably even less so. Even David and Tony had said I couldn't have that. (And I didn't want it anyway!) It took me what seemed like a long time to get back to sleep.
Chapter 8 coming soon.