top

There was a green sky and the sea was as black as a piece of coal when all the lice from Leicestershire were tearing out of Norfolk like a torrent after a weekend of sun, sea and sand. And as for sex, they may not have got much of that but I did. I did, ‘cos I’ve just spent a weekend with Julian in Lincoln and I am feeling very pleased.

Awhile ago, when I said I wouldn’t dress for him the way he wanted he become morose, reserved and resigned. Leave it for now, I’d told him, its only a phase I’m going through, a spell when I enjoy having a lot of facial hair.

He said he’d thrown my makeup out when I asked about it but it was still there in the bathroom when I looked. Mascara looks stupid with a beard he said and he was right. I think our roles have changed, certainly they have temporarily and I have to say in some respects it is much easier now they have. We can go out together now as two blokes without worrying too much about where we go or where we’re seen.

Its that mate of mine from Norfolk, he’ll say, if anyone asks him. And if anyone asks me I can say, without lying, yea this is my mate Julian from Lincoln. Neither of us have to lie about transvestism or worry about being beaten up by a gang of homophobes but knowing all that didn’t really make him any happier.

He told me he was queer on Saturday night, in a depressed mood when I could neither make him smile nor cum. It happens sometimes and when it does it worries him. Defensively he glowered, simmered, wanting sympathy and understanding, acceptance yet not recognising it when it was given.

Queers an odd, old fashioned word to use, I told him plainly. Specially when I already know what you are anyway. You don’t have to prove it to me or to anybody. All the people who really matter already know it.

I’ve told him similar things before and telling him them again didn’t cheer him much so I left it there. I knew he’d want to sleep on it. And sleep on it he did. Thankfully.

On Sunday we’d agreed to go to Spurn Point but when we got up it was raining.

We went anyway, Jule drove and I kept quiet and by the time we got there the clouds had gone and the sun was shining brightly onto a windy North sea.

Spurn Point is an odd sort of place with sea all around it and big ships standing like sentinels black on the horizon. I was a good passenger, quiet and, shy and hadn’t tried to touch him or anything on the way.

I think I’d disappointed him tho’ he didn’t say. Not until he’d parked the car anyway.

Then: “You’re quiet today” he said.

“Thinking!” I told him. That was all. He knew what was uppermost in my mind.

We turned to walk along the sand mechanically, looking at the old tower standing in ruins with its rusting water tank on top. You used to be able to see the words “High Explosive” painted on the side but that’s all faded now, away to nothingness.

“High Explosive!” Julian said as we crunched along the shingle “Do you remember someone telling you that?”

“He was warning me off!” I said.

“I know……”

That was years ago, felt like years anyway, not long after Jule and I got together. I’d come from an unhappy situation and so had he, similar but whereas mine had been violent Jule’s had been destructive.

“High Explosive!” we laughed at that, threw stones in the sea and wondered about damming up the Humber estuary.

“Big ships sail on the alley alley oh” he said “And sexy men sit down behind the sand dunes!”

Well there was no-one around when he kissed me, did it without commenting on the beard. I have promised to shave it off sometime soon but he is not forcing me.

We did it there once before, one winter I recall. Yes it was bloody cold with some snow on the ground. Wild places are like that when you make the effort to go to them. Wild and free and hot, even when its freezing.

“Two years its been, hasn’t it?” he asked.

I had to apologise, having forgotten. I truly had forgotten, hadn’t put on the ring he’d bought me that first weekend. I think he was disappointed but his kiss was good, very good and he didn’t complain that I’d forgotten the anniversary or about the beard.

Two years! Oh and don’t we know each other now! Know each other and still find new things.

His cum tasted of the Italian food we’d had the night before. Garlic I suppose it was and when he came he came a lot.

He was a different man afterwards, smiling and relaxed. Outgoing when he said:

“Its easier when you talk to me”

“Sometimes there i’nt nothing to say!” I told him. “sometimes all you have to do is do!”

Jule looses his erections quickly. “Worry!” he says “And getting old!”

He won’t kiss me again but I know he’s teasing, know he likes to find the taste of himself on my lips, knows I won’t really mind if he doesn’t take quite so much trouble with me.

“Later on will be ok” I tell him.

He nods. That’s a promise he’ll have to keep.

We look at the sky, wondering how far we can actually see and bet each other that there is no-one looking back.

We look at the horizon and the gulls swooping without moving their wings. I want him but he’s too relaxed, too replete to do much more than smile. Its my fault I know but……

………………

Theres a container ship on the horizon when we get up and a tanker further out, bound for Immingham. I would have liked him to have screwed me but didn’t have the heart to ask. Knowing how much I wanted it would have worried him all over again.

The tanker turns, something shines on it, a window maybe, catching the sun. We throw some more stones, saying nothing to each other, toying with our own individual thoughts. I had been hoping to stay with him much later than usual and perhaps I will. Its odd, the sea air, the wide skies, Spurn Point’s wildness really makes me want him and that wanting in turn makes me not want to leave..

“All this will be gone one day” he says. “All the sand, footprints, stones, everything”

He sounds so final, so resigned I have to kiss him again.

“The sea will take it!” he says.

We cut across along the path, back to where he’d parked the car. I let him drive all carefully and quietly and both of us turn to our thoughts again. It was windy on the bridge but I loved it as usual, wound the window down, told him to slow down and yelled at the void.

I asked him to screw me when we turned onto the A15. No not actually do it on the A15 silly but as soon as we got back to his place. He worried, I know he did, all the way back. Worried if he really could, whether he’d have enough energy.

Now Julian is his own man when he is alone. Self centred and insular to a quite high degree. But he’s sensitive too, like most gay men are. Hell we’d been together almost a year before he admitted he still cried sometimes. He was in the wrong job at the time, stressed and dissatisfied while I, with stupidity disguised as bravado had set no thoughts on ever losing him.

But I nearly did.

“High Explosive!” the jealous bastard in the club confided to me. I’d shrugged it off at the time, still rosy cheeked and throbbing with all the cock I thought I’d ever need. The man’s words hurt Jule immensely; they’d been friends, not lover, just friends in an ordinary way but we stopped going to that particular club soon after that. Maybe it was for the best but it was for all the wrong reasons.

“Too expensive!” I recall Jule saying, one of the first times we cuddled in bed.

It was a shame but also a catalyst in that it made us look for something better and also to look further afield. We’re still looking and that is really what matters. We both know it doesn’t matter if we don’t ever find.

“Clubs come and go!” I told him “There will be one there, ready and waiting when we really need it……”

“S’pose so!” he said.

………………

Worried he did, all the way south, right back to Lincoln while I grew ever more wanting with each mile that passed on the way. Worried and parked crookedly when we got back, too far over to one side of his assigned parking space.

I held his hand on the stairs, wanted to kiss him again but he hurried, turning his head away and in his haste dropping his keys.

“Sorry I asked!” I wanted to say, seeing the muddled state I’d put him in and thinking it best if I went. Maybe I should have said sorry before it was too late now that too late was coming up round about half past three.

“I would have screwed you on the dunes!” he told me “If only you asked……instead of……”

There would have been time and silence, solitude, just him and me. We could have ignored the ships in the mouth of the river and the coastguard’s van sounding its horn.

“I didn’t want it then” I lied, wishing I hadn’t sucked him to such a copious climax.

Theres one thing in favour of shoes with Velcro fastenings to my way of thinking – they come undone really fast. I like it when I get quickly naked with him and shoes, well shoes with laces very often get in the way.

Forsaking silence and solitude we made it to the bedroom, just, without breaking anything. Except for one of our records that is. In two years I’d say it was the quickest he’s ever got into me.

………………

Do you know I am sure the sky was green as I drove home, coloured green I mean, like it was reflecting something. Worse the sea, the sea looked black, though why it should have I’ve no idea. Thankfully I didn’t spend too long looking at that.

All those cars and caravans! Weekenders going home back to Lincs and Leics again, some no doubt right back to blooming Yorkshire. Sod off up the A1 I wanted to yell at them but didn’t. Instead, needing my peace and my open fields again I played one of Jule’s forgotten CDs, in solitude and with a no nonsense and a sense of grounding.

And having clattered across one bridge both ways earlier I clattered happily across another on the way home. Stevenson’s old iron railway bridge which now carries the road back to Norfolk at Cross Keys.

And this time for once I brought good feelings, both mental and physical, back here to Norfolk with me.

Now the sky’s dark and the sea too far away for me to see if it is still green and grey. My other lover greets me, makes me tea. She’s homely, a foil to all my failings and foibles, a darner of socks, a repairer of holes and the frayed edges of things. I don’t need to tell her, she can sense, can smell too, in all probability.

“Lot of traffic on the roads” I tell her “Holidaymakers going home……”

She nods. Theres no combustion, no violent explosions; sensibly I’d phoned her earlier, from Jule’s kitchen to tell her that I might be late.

High Explosive? Not her! But Julian?? Sometimes, when I am clever enough to light the touchpaper just right, he certainly is!

© Aahlu. 11pm Sunday 21st August 2011.

Location links:

http://www.humberbridge.co.uk/
http://www.transportheritage.com/find-heritage-locations.html?sobi2Task=sobi2Details&catid=19&sobi2Id=122
http://www.spurnpoint.com/

'); document.write('

'+'ipt>');

'); document.write('

'+'ipt>'); '); document.write('

'+'ipt>');

'); document.write('

'+'ipt>');

'); document.write('

'+'ipt>');