Nicholas Pt. 01
Dive into “Nicholas Pt. 01,” a captivating gay sex story that explores desire, passion, and connection. Follow Nicholas as he embarks on a thrilling journey of self-discovery and intimate encounters that will leave you breathless. Don’t miss the chance to experience this heartfelt and steamy tale—ignite your imagination and enjoy the ride!
It was summer of 1980. I was twenty years old.
One afternoon, I was sitting on the patio at home, reading a book, when Nicholas called to me from the side gate.
Nicholas was the boyfriend of my older sister, Justine. He was a good-looking Neanderthal. Six-two or thereabouts, one hundred and eighty pounds or thereabouts, with a broad, flat face and short sandy-coloured hair. He played rugby (which he called “Rugger”), liked real ale, and occasionally smoked a pipe.
I unlocked the gate and let him in. “Justine had to go out,” I said, in answer to his enquiry, “but she’ll be back soon, if you want to wait”
“You’re here on your own?” he asked.
“Yep, just li’l ol’ me.”
Actually, I was quite little. Just 5’4″ tall and as slender as a reed.
“Where’s Isabelle?”
Isabelle was my twin sister.
“She’s visiting a friend in Liverpool or maybe Birmingham – I’m not sure.”
I waited, but he didn’t move.
“So, are you coming in?”
It took him several more seconds to decide. “Yeah, I’ll come in,” he said with finality and, maybe, a hint of foreboding.
I led him to the patio.
“So, how’s everything?” I asked.
“Oh, you know,” he said. ” You?”
“Very hunky and particularly dory,” I said.
I asked him if he wanted something to drink. He didn’t. I asked him if he was taking Justine to his parents’ house at the weekend (his parents had a place in the country). He said “yes”. Then he picked up the book I had been reading.
“Slaughterhouse-Five,” he said, then he mispronounced the author’s surname.
“Have you read it?” I asked.
“No, I don’t read many books,” he said. “Don’t have the time.”
His not reading many books didn’t surprise me. Nicholas was a fellow more at home in a gym than a library. And I, for one, didn’t see anything wrong with that.
“It’s really good.”
“Yeah?” He changed the subject. “So, how long do you think Justine is going to be?”
“She said she’d be back by five, or just after.”
He looked at his watch. The time was four, twenty-eight.
“So, thirty minutes?”
“Thereabouts,” I said.
He nodded. Then, he cleared his throat. Then, he picked up the book again, flicked through the pages, and put it down. “So… everything’s okay with you?”
“Tickety-boo,’ I said. “Particularly boo. I’ve been enjoying the sunshine.”
“Doing a little reading.”
“Yes, doing a little reading. Or just daydreaming.”
“About what?”
“Oh, the usual things.”
If you had asked me then, I would have said, quite confidently, that my usual things would not be the same as his. Little did I know.
Nicholas nodded. Then, he took off his jacket. He had obviously come straight from work. He took off his tie and unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons. Then, he started to roll up his sleeves.
I looked at the space below his throat. It was just as tanned as his face. I wondered if there was any spot on his body that wasn’t sexy. Maybe he had hideous toes. I watched the slow reveal of his forearms.
“Have you had a chance to enjoy the weather?” I asked.
“A little bit,” he said. He looked at me. “Looks like you’ve caught the sun.”
“A little bit,” I said.
“I expect you have to be careful, don’t you? Your skin’s quite fair.”
I could see he was suddenly a little embarrassed, mentioning how fair my skin was.
“I do burn quite easily,” I said.
“Yeah, you have to be careful with fair skin,” he said.
“I usually slather myself in sun cream,” I said.
We sat in silence for a while. I wondered if he was imagining me slathered in sun cream.
Then, we both started to say something at the same time.
“You go,” he said.
“No, you,” I said.
“No, really, you go.”
“Well,” I said, “I was just going to ask how often you work out. You obviously do.”
“Not a lot,” he said. “Just three times a week.”
“Well, it’s really paying off. You look great.”
He shifted in his seat. “Thanks,” he said.
“And I bet Justine doesn’t complain.”
“No,” he said, with a grin.
“Anyway, what were you going to say?”‘ I asked.
“Hmm?”
“What were you going to say?”
“Oh. Well, I was just going to ask if you would mind me asking you about something.”
“Of course not.”
He smiled. “I don’t want to get too personal, though.”
“Sounds ominous,” I said.
“No, it’s just that Justine and I were talking – ”
“As you do,” I said.
“What? Oh, right. Yeah, we were talking, and… ” He paused, picked up the book again, and put it down.
“You and Justine were talking,” I prompted.
“Yeah… and she happened to mention that you’re gay.”
“Oh,” I said. “She happened to mention that?”
“Yeah. I mean – you know – she… happened to mention it.”
“Well,” I said, “she was telling you the truth. But you must have suspected?”
I had always assumed he knew. If he didn’t, I was surprised that Justine had only just got around to mentioning it.
“Well, yeah,’ he said, “I thought you might be. You know, because of – ” He made a vague gesture with both hands in my direction – probably referring to my general gay-ish demeanour. “But you never know these days, do you? You’re pretty sure a guy is gay and then you find out that he’s married… or has a girlfriend.”
“A lot of gay men are married or have girlfriends,” I said.
“Well, yeah, but you know what I mean.”
“Well, I am gay,” I said. “I even have a certificate to prove it, sent from headquarters in Paris.”
“A certificate?”
“It’s nothing fancy,” I said, “It just states – officially – that I have the legal right to call myself gay.”
He stared at me, not blinking.
“I’m joking,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, laughing.
“Anyway,” I went on, “I hope you’re cool with me being gay?”
“Oh, God, yeah,” he said. “Cooler than cool.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said. “You know what some people are like about that kind of thing.”
He nodded. “I know, some people are… ” He trailed off. “But we’re all just people – right?” he continued. “We’re all just trying to live our lives. Trying to get along. And how you want to live your life is no one’s business but your own. Live and let live – that’s my motto.”
I had never heard Nicholas talk like that before. I wondered if he had hidden depths. There hadn’t been much evidence to suggest such a thing so far.
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s really nice of you to say that.”
He shrugged. “It’s what I think,” he said.
“Well, I wish more people thought like you do.”
I was lucky. I hadn’t experienced much abuse thus far in my life. Every once in a while, someone called me a “Poof” or a “Fairy,” and once an American called me a “Fruit”. I did know a few boys, though, who had had been on the receiving end of some vile abuse.
Nicholas was quiet for a while. He looked like there was something else he wanted to say, but wasn’t quite sure how to word it.
“Was there something else you wanted to ask me?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “No, it’s nothing.”
“If you have a question, I don’t mind answering it.”
If Justine’s plan worked, he and I would be in-laws some time soon. We had to get along. So, if there was something he needed to ask of his gay future in-law, I wanted to hear it.