It's Only a Game

by Ivor Slipper

I can remember the moment it happened as if it was yesterday even though it is now twelve years ago. I guess that sort of life changing moment always stays with you. When I'm sitting quietly I can picture the course of events in my mind – all in slow motion. Indeed I think it did happen in slow motion, although of course it couldn't have.

It was the summer of 2006 and I was twelve years old, getting on for thirteen. I was a fairly normal boy back then, reasonably good at school – certainly enough to keep my parents happy, but like most kids of that age I was sports mad. No doubt being of fairly athletic build helped with that, or did the build come from being so keen on sport? Either way I was slim, quite tall for my age and fit. I had dark hair, cut fairly short but which came down over my forehead without getting into my hazel coloured eyes.

I also had a best friend. Paul lived two doors away from me just down the street from where our large bungalow stood on the corner. He was a couple of months younger than me but we had both lived in our respective homes all our lives. He had two sisters who were both younger than him by two and four years respectively while I was an only child. Paul was a couple of inches shorter than me, but otherwise we were pretty much of the same build. His hair was dark like mine, but came right down over his forehead to the level of his eyebrows, under which were his blue eyes.

Like me he was sports mad. Well, if he hadn't been then I suppose we wouldn't have been such good friends as we were. We'd grown up together and perhaps because of us getting on so well together our parents had also become good friends. Luckily, although Paul was a couple of months younger than me we both started school at the same time. I suspect that had he been born a few months later and thus not qualified to start when I did we probably wouldn't have become such good friends as we did. I think we'd still have been friends, but being in a different year at school would have created some sort of barrier between us. As it was we had gone to nursery school together and from there to junior school and upwards through the school system. We both seemed to be of similar intelligence and were good at the same subjects as well as being bad in the same ones – neither of us was much good at science for instance, but we both enjoyed language, history and geography, while Paul was miles better than me at maths. Consequently we shared virtually all of our classes through being in the same streams. I think probably the teachers and other kids thought of us almost as if we were one simply because we were virtually always together and never appeared to fall out – in fact I don't recall we ever did.

Due to us being in the same year and stream and doing the same subjects, we also had the same homework to do. Both our parents were very insistent that we complete our homework before we could go out and enjoy ourselves, or indeed watch a DVD or play a computer game if the weather was bad. Because of Paul's younger sisters it had become natural that he would come home from school with me and we would settle down and do our homework together in my bedroom. I suppose some people might call that cheating, but most times we did work independently although I'd have to admit there were some occasions where I copied an algebra answer from him! My mum would provide us with a snack when we got home from school and then we'd do any homework we had before going out in the garden with my football – weather permitting. On the odd occasion there wasn't any homework then we'd simply get changed and go straight out to play at the park because it would be worthwhile going there as we had more time. It was also likely there'd be some other boys there so we could set up a game of some sort.

Paul nearly always went home for his dinner and we might get together again afterwards. Sometimes though, usually on Friday or Saturday nights, we would have a sleepover. These had started a few years back and always happened at my house for two reasons. The first was – again – Paul's sisters and the second was due to beds. Paul's house had three bedrooms of which only two were doubles. Thus his parents and sisters slept in those and he had the single room, whereas I being the only child had the luxury of a double bedroom all to myself in which there was also a double bed.

When we started sleeping together puberty hadn't struck so there was no sexual element involved. It was just a further chance to be together. We'd play video games or watch a horror video until my parents told us it was really, really, time to go to sleep and then we'd do just that. We were used to seeing each other undressed for sport or gym, so there was nothing unusual in getting undressed in front of the other to go to bed. Usually we'd sleep in a pair of shorts or pyjama bottoms and we'd virtually always go to sleep on our respective sides of the bed. Occasionally though during the night we'd both move towards the middle of the bed and we'd end up next to each other.

Believe it or not, that didn't really change when puberty struck. It came to me first, I guess naturally since I was slightly older, but there wasn't a lot in it. I know I started to sneak glances at Paul's tackle when I thought he wasn't looking and I'm sure he did the same to me. But that was all it was – looking out of interest in the same way as we'd both sneak looks at other boys when getting changed for football whether at school of for weekend games.

And of course by that time I was wanking on pretty much a daily basis. Perhaps oddly, seeing that we were such close friends, it wasn't something we talked about. Neither did we have any time for girls – we had enough to occupy us with football – but equally I wasn't looking at boys any differently to how I'd looked at them before and I'm pretty sure neither was Paul.

And then of course there was the sport. We were both football crazy. We played at school and our parents were persuaded to let us join local boys' teams that played on both Saturdays and Sundays throughout the season. Both of us played in midfield and we made a pretty good pairing. This was possibly due to us spending so much of our spare time kicking a ball around in either my back garden, which because ours was a corner house, was larger than Paul's, or in the local park which was only a short distance away. Fortunately our parents were the types who were happy to let their children off the leash so we could go to the park on our own. They just insisted that we always tell them when we were going and be back by a set time. It had been Paul's birthday about three months earlier and he'd got a super new watch that he always wore so we had absolutely no excuse for ever being late. Mind you, I think we were 'good' in that sense. We realised our parents let us have a lot of rope compared to other kids who were virtually never allowed out on their own; equally though we weren't just allowed to wander the streets.

Apart from football we also both enjoyed swimming and did some athletics at school. But it was football that was our driving force – both playing and watching. This was perhaps the one area where we differed. Paul's father had been born in Liverpool and moved to London in his early twenties where he had met Paul's mother and they had settled down together and bought a house in the suburbs. My parents though had always lived in the same suburb to the west of London. However, Paul's dad had always been a fanatical Liverpool supporter and perhaps because of this Paul had grown up to be a fan too. My Dad was always interested in football, but not to the same extent as Paul's. His team had been Chelsea and so that also became mine.

No doubt you've already guessed, but whenever we played together Paul was Stevie Gerrard and I was Frank Lampard . Of course many experts considered that both should not play in the same team, but we fervently disagreed and trusted that Sven-Goran would agree with us!

So there it was, June 2006 and the World Cup started. England's first game was against Paraguay which we managed to win 1-0 thanks to an own goal. As usual with England's opening games in World Cups it wasn't a very convincing performance. Both Gerrard and Lampard played with Stevie picking up a yellow card. Five days later came the second game against Trinidad & Tobago. Surely we had to win this one easily? 'England' and 'easy' are two words that don't go together in World Cup finals and we stuttered to a 2-0 victory that looked much better on paper due to a brilliant late left foot strike from Gerrard. This time Lampard was booked. Still, we had four points so qualification for the knockout stages seemed pretty assured. Five days later came the final group game against Sweden. Gerrard only came on as a sub, but it was a good thing he did as not only did he score a goal but also cleared one of their shots off the line. That ensured the game ended as a 2-2 draw so England not only qualified but did so top of their group.

Now came a match against Ecuador. That sounded pretty simple as nobody had ever heard much more of them than Trinidad & Tobago. It was anything but simple five days later when England squeezed through 1-0 thanks to a Beckham free kick special. Both Gerrard and Lampard played, but Frank continued to miss scoring chances much as he'd done since the first game which was earning me a lot of ribbing from Paul along the lines of 'Gerrard two; Lampard nil'. And so we advanced to a quarter final against Portugal and June turned into July.

July 1^st. England play Portugal. It ends 0-0 after ninety minutes, but that hardly tells even a little of the story. Beckham had to be substituted due to injury just after half time and then Rooney stamped on Carvalho for which he received a red card and was sent off, so we were down to ten men. In some ways England played better then and had a few chances to score, but it wasn't to be as once again Lampard missed what looked like a pretty easy chance. Extra time came and went and thus it was all down to penalties. Knowing how England had fared in previous penalty shoot outs I was not optimistic of the outcome. My fears proved correct and calamitously the penalties from both Lampard and Gerrard were saved by the Portuguese keeper. He then went on to save one from Carragher who had initially scored, but the referee decreed it had to be retaken. Hargreaves had scored for us and two of the Portuguese missed, so there was still some faint hope but the last two Portuguese scored and thus we were out, having lost 3-1 on penalties.

That evening was total gloom and doom in my house where we'd sat and watched the game on TV together with my parents and Paul's father. Dad insisted we all went out for a pizza in the evening, but it did little to shift the black cloud that had descended over both me and Paul. It was a Saturday so Paul was sleeping over again, but neither of us seemed to be in the mood for playing video games and we actually got ready for bed quite early for us at a weekend. I did put a horror movie on the TV in my bedroom, but we couldn't even get interested in that and it hadn't been running for long before I realised that Paul had gone to sleep so I switched it off and followed suit.

Sunday morning found both of us lying in bed as usual and in no great hurry to get up even though the sun was shining and it looked through the window as if it was going to be a nice summer day. Eventually somewhere around ten Mum came knocking on the door to say that she and Dad were going to a car boot sale and would be back sometime after midday in time to get us some lunch, but that she intended to cook our main meal in the evening. After we'd heard them go we finally got up and I went in the shower first. When I'd finished Paul followed while I dressed and then went into the kitchen to get some cereal. Paul came down a few minutes later and proceeded to consume a large bowl of rice krispies.

We still weren't talking much, but after we'd finished we put our dishes and spoons in the dishwasher and the cereal packets away in the cupboard and then went back to my room. And this is about the point at which that mental video starts playing in my mind.

Normally on a Sunday morning we'd go out either into the garden or down to the park to kick a ball around. We were both dressed accordingly. Neither of us was wearing a shirt and we both had on a pair of sweat pants – mine were navy blue and Paul's a sort of olive green – with nothing underneath, and just wearing sports socks on our feet as our trainers were by the back door. I'd picked up the football and was holding it with both hands in front of me. For some reason I'd sort of backed up to the wall and was just standing there, I guess with a blank expression on my face. Paul had gone to the bedroom door on his way back downstairs, but sensing I hadn't moved, turned and saw me standing there gazing into space, so walked back and stood in front of me.

"What the fuck's up with you today, Alastair? Yes, England lost, but it's only a friggin' game. The world isn't going to end. Are we gonna play football or are you just going to stand there all day?"

He was right. I had gone into a major sulk. I'd so expected England to beat Portugal and may even get to the final if perhaps not win the competition. Add to that my hero, Lampard, had had a poor tournament, so I was down in the mouth. At the time of the last World Cup in Korea I'd been little more than eight, so the fact that England hadn't got beyond the group stages in that one hadn't really bothered me much.

"Dunno. Sorry, Paul. I'll snap out of it soon I guess."

"So, are we gonna go and play football or do you wanna do something else?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno, unless…….."

And this is the real slow motion bit - he leant forward so that the ball was jammed between my stomach and his and then his lips met mine in a very delicate and gentle kiss. As soon as he'd done it he pulled back and I could see a look of worry and concern spread across his face.

"I'm sorry Alastair……….I dunno what came over me………forget I did that…….please…….." he stammered.

As his lips met mine I felt a tremor go through my body; my heart started to pound and I could feel my pulse racing. I stood there though momentarily frozen to the spot and then I felt a smile start to spread across my face. The ball dropped from my hands and it was my turn to lean forward and place a delicate kiss on his lips. It felt great. As I pulled my lips away from his I could see a smile start to form on his face that soon turned into a Paul special grin. He stepped forward and kissed me again only this time I could feel his tongue running damply across my lips. I opened my mouth and his tongue flicked inside for a few seconds before it withdrew and then it was my turn to run my tongue across his lips before they opened and allowed me to explore.

In next to no time we had our arms around each other and were busy kissing while at the same time our hands began to explore each other's chests and backs – stroking and touching in a way that seemed perfectly natural even though we had never done such things to each other before.

Paul's hands moved further and further down my back until they arrived at the waistband of my sweats. As they did I became aware that while I had been semi hard more or less since the moment his tongue came into my mouth, now my prick started to get harder, something that increased as his hands went beyond the waistband and started to roam across my arse. He pulled me into a tighter embrace and I felt his own hardness pushing into me. My own hands glided further down his back and then onto the fabric of his sweats.

By now we were both moving to a rhythm that was instinctive, but as he pulled his hands back up from my arse only to push them down inside my sweats and onto my bare skin I was beginning to moan. It didn't take long before he had managed to push the back of my sweats down so that they were virtually hanging off my bum and held in place only by the knot at the front. Barely had I realised that than Paul brought his hands back up from my bum and then round to the front to untie the knot. I hurried to do the same to his and with a little wriggling two pairs of sweat pants descended to our ankles, although both of us needed a little helping hand to push them beyond our now fully erect pricks.

I was still backed up against the wall, but Paul took a shuffling step backwards and we both looked down at what had been revealed. We'd seen each other semi naked or even naked many times before, but only in the course of getting dressed or undressed either for sport or to go to bed. Those though had only been passing glimpses - virtually in the same way as I had glanced at other boys while in the changing rooms. Never had we stood only a foot apart facing each other in our nakedness.

Luckily both our pricks appeared to be of similar length, although mine looked to be somewhat thicker than his, and we both had a few hairs growing down there. I also noted that, like me, Paul was uncircumcised but the head of his prick was full visible beyond the end of his foreskin. My own head though was just peeping from mine.

We stood like that for what seemed to be ages, but was probably no more than half a minute before Paul stretched out a tentative hand and placed it on the top of my prick. I immediately jerked in response to what was the first time it had ever, in my memory, been touched by anyone other than me. It felt good though and I sensed my heart start to race. My brain urged me to respond and equally tentatively I reached across and touched him also, feeling his firmness. Immediately I had done that Paul started to run his hand backwards and forwards, feeling my length and with each motion revealing and then partially hiding again the throbbing head of my penis from the folds of loose foreskin.

While I wanked on a daily basis this was totally different. The way in which Paul's hand slid up and down was similar to doing it to myself and yet it was different and much more enjoyable. I had started to move my hand along his length when a little warning bell rang in my brain. I stopped and removed my hand. As I did so Paul followed suit with a worried expression on his face. I smiled in reassurance – "Wait", I said as I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady myself while I disentangled my feet from my sweats. "Just in case my folks decide to come back early from their car boot", I added as I walked across to my bedroom door and locked it, before returning to stand in front of him again. I bent my head forward so our lips met once more, before moving my mouth round towards his ear. "I think we should get comfortable" I whispered and then bent down picked up my sweats from the floor and chucked them on the bed. I had a feeling they would prove useful soon.

"Like your thinking, Ally" said Paul with a smile as he sat on the end of the bed in order to remove his own sweats and threw them to join mine. The bed was of course still unmade, but that mattered not as we were not intending to use it for sleeping. I walked to my usual side and then lay down and scooted into the middle. Paul duplicated my movements and in no time we were lying face to face. Our mouths were joined once more while our hands and fingers roamed across each other's torsos stroking and caressing. The feelings I was experiencing were intensely pleasurable and judging by the sounds Paul was making he was enjoying just as much what I was doing to him. While our hands roamed our pricks were engaged in a close contact dance of their own as our bodies pressed together and moved one way and another.

Paul eventually brought his left hand to the front of my right shoulder – the one that was not on the bed – and gently pushed me backwards. Rather reluctantly I pulled my lips away from his and rolled onto my back. This allowed Paul's left hand to work its way slowly down my chest paying particular attention to my nipples, before reaching my navel. From there it was but a few inches to what I fully imagined was its target, but instead he placed it on my leg and then began to caress the inside of my thighs. I could stand this no longer and using my right hand pushed him onto his back so that I could give his body some attention.

Seemingly unplanned after a couple of minutes we both ended up with a hand on the others balls while above each set stood a now very firm prick. Paul turned to look at me,

"Together or separate?" he asked.

The question needed no consideration. "Together." I replied instantly.

"I hoped you'd say that" he breathed. He took his hand away and I followed suit expecting him to place it round my prick. Instead he took his fingers into his mouth and wet them. "It's better like this – more lubrication" he said.

I had no real idea what he was talking about but copied him. Then I found out exactly what he meant as his fingers came back to my prick. What had been enjoyable when we stood at the foot of the bed a while back now became amazingly more pleasurable as his fingers and hand glided smoothly back and forth along my length.

"How did you find out about this?" I managed to gasp between strokes.

"Haven't you heard about blow jobs?"

"No, what are they?"

"Oh, Ally you have got a lot to learn, haven't you? And I thought you were brighter than me."

"So, what are they?"

"All in good time, Ally. All in good time."

"This is a good time, surely?"

"Mmmm. I know, but just enjoy this for now."

So saying he took his hand away momentarily to bring back some more lubrication and that was almost immediately sufficient to bring me to a climax. At this time I wasn't producing much sperm, but what there was shot upwards to land on my stomach. I watched, slightly amazed at the sight as usually I just shot into some tissue or similar. Then I realised Paul was still in need and I applied myself to bringing him off. He may have been a bit younger than me, but his sperm factory had at least as good an output as mine!

We lay back on the pillows; our nearest hands joined and by unspoken agreement we rolled towards each other and kissed deeply. When the kiss was broken we rolled apart onto our backs. I lay there wondering what had just happened. What had been a normal morning had suddenly turned into something completely unexpected and I had to admit to myself – very enjoyable. Although Paul and I had been best friends for like forever I had never thought about him in a sexual way, but when he kissed me it was as if a dam broke and what followed was just right and natural. Eventually Paul broke the silence.

"I was dead scared when I kissed you, Ally. I've wanted to do it for weeks now but I thought if I did you probably punch me and then we'd not be friends anymore."

I let out a little chuckle before answering.

"You sure took me by surprise, but then something happened inside me and I just had to kiss you back. But, you've been wanting to kiss me for weeks? I hadn't noticed."

"I've been dropping hints like cuddling closer to you in bed and putting my arm over you there, but you've been so wrapped up in the friggin' World Cup I don't think your mind had room for anything else."

He was right about that. I'd been thinking of virtually nothing else.

"And then England gets knocked out on top of Lampard having a lousy tournament and you go into a sulk. So I decided this morning when you were so off that it was now or never."

"I'm glad you did Paul – very glad. And maybe Frank being so off his game was actually a good thing." I said with a chuckle as I rolled towards him, pulled him close and we kissed deeply once more.

Finally we decided we'd better get up and clean ourselves up too before my parents returned. When we'd done that I again asked Paul to tell me about blow jobs, but he laughed at me saying that I'd had enough new experiences for one day but that he'd tell me after school tomorrow.

Luckily my mother worked on a Monday so I knew we'd have the house to ourselves when we came home. Didn't stop me walking round the school with a hard on for most of the day as I was pretty sure it was going to involve my prick, but I could work out where the 'blow' came in. Actually I was thinking so much about it that I wasn't paying too much attention in class and I very nearly ended up getting a detention – much to Paul's amusement when the teacher threatened me with it if he caught me dreaming again.

Once school finished we cycled straight home instead of stopping for a game of footie as we often did and then went straight up to my room, stopping only for a quick glass of coke and a couple of little cakes Mum had made earlier. I closed and locked the door and then we both stood there looking at each other. Paul grinned at me and then took off his shirt, toed off his shoes and finally took off his jeans to leave himself clad only in a pair of bright red boxers. I followed suit until I was standing wearing just a pair of black briefs that were struggling to hold in my rather excited prick – which became even more excited when Paul stepped forward and felt it and my balls. I had to return the favour.

Next thing I knew Paul had knelt on the floor and I felt his hands go to the waistband of my briefs and pull them down below my knees. My prick surged free as he did so and as I looked down at it I saw him move his head forward and felt him kiss the tip before starting to kiss down and around it while one of his hands toyed with my balls. That felt great, but then he used his other hand to run the tip of my prick along his lips a few times and I could feel the end getting damp. When I looked down I could see his tongue sticking out and he began to lick all over. By now I was starting to moan with pleasure and placed my hands on his shoulders for support, something I definitely needed as he opened his mouth and slowly started to draw my prick into it. Of course it wasn't long before I began to feel that familiar tension starting inside and knew that I was going to shoot my load. I went to pull my prick out of Paul's mouth but he held it there and instantly I was shuddering and shooting.

When I'd finished I felt all weak which Paul must have sensed as he pushed me backwards to sit in the edge of my bed, before saying,

"I take it you enjoyed that?"

"It blew my mind, Paul. I never imagined such feelings were possible. Wanking's good – but that! How did you find out about it?"

"If I tell you the truth you have to promise to tell nobody. Alright?"

"Promise."

"Well, you know I went with the school choir to that festival at Chichester at Easter?"

I nodded.

"I don't know why, but for some reason I got to share a room with Alec Stirling. You know him don't you?"

"Yeah, he's that ginger haired kid in the year above us, isn't he?"

"Yep, that's him. Perhaps they put us in together because we were the two soloists and they thought we deserved better treatment than the others, I dunno. Anyway, first night we're there I waited until I thought he'd gone to sleep and then decided to have a wank. Of course the bed springs start squeaking and he isn't asleep as I thought as I hear this voice asking if I want a hand. Dunno why but I said 'Yes' and suddenly he's beside me on my bed. He starts off just rubbing me up with his fingers and then he moves to kneel astride me legs - and then 'Wow' he's sucking me off. Well, you know now what it's like the first time anyone does that to you; sorta unfucking believable."

Paul wasn't given to swearing but I could forgive him as I knew exactly what he meant.

"So that's how you found out? But did you suck him off afterwards?"

"Not that night – he wouldn't let me, but we did each other the next night and then on the last night we did each other at the same time."

"What! How is that possible?" I asked. I was so dumb back then!!

Paul laughed at me. "I'll show you some time Ally – if you want to find out."

I hadn't really thought about that. Come to that I hadn't really thought about returning the favour to Paul, but I was getting hard again and looking down at him I could see a little damp patch on his boxers.

"I think you need some assistance Paul. Stand up and I'll try to help."

Paul stood; I knelt and pulled down his boxers. As I'd seen pre-cum was leaking from the end of his prick. I leaned forward to kiss it and as I did so I heard Paul's voice warning me to be careful with my teeth. My first effort I know wasn't that good, but at least I did him no lasting damage as subsequent days proved.

So there it was. Our relationship had taken a new unexpected turn. I don't know if either my or Paul's parents sensed that change; I'm pretty certain they didn't at first. As we'd always spent so much time together it wasn't like starting a friendship with someone new. Perhaps the fact that we spent more time in my bedroom now and less out in the garden or at the park playing football might have given a clue, but on the rare occasions questions were asked we'd say we were doing homework or playing one of our computer games.

But by the time we'd reached Christmas we both felt that we wanted to be able to display our love – as that was what we'd decided it was – more openly. To be able to hold hands and even kiss, if not immediately in public at least in our homes, was our wish. So we made a joint New Year's resolution that we'd both tell our parents on the first day of 2007.

We were both scared stiff of how our parents would react. I was pleasantly surprised when I told them over breakfast, having decided that if I left it to do any later in the day I'd probably chicken out. There were no fireworks, unlike there had been at midnight, and my mum sort of indicated that she'd suspected it for a little while. Both of them assured me that they loved me now just the same as they always had.

Once that was done I just had to wait to find out how things had gone for Paul. When he came round a little while later and I asked the question he confessed that he hadn't told his parents yet. I told him mine had been fine and I was sure his would be the same, so insisted he tell them at lunch when they got back from their trip to the January Sales.

It was late afternoon before I saw him again and he didn't look very cheerful. We went up to my room and once safely there he told me that although his mother had seemed fairly accepting, his father hadn't been at all happy. While he'd made no attempt to stop us seeing each other – which would have been virtually impossible because we went to the same school and played in the same football teams - he had told Paul that he was sure it was just a passing phase and that he'd grow out of it in a few months. Paul had flatly rejected that and they'd ended up having a bit of an argument. I could only try and reassure him that his father would come round given time. Indeed that did seem to be the case as winter turned into spring and we continued to develop our relationship.

It therefore came as a great surprise when one evening in April Paul came round after dinner, in tears. He was incoherent at first, but after we'd spent a long time cuddled together on my bed he was able to tell me what had caused this. Although the story didn't emerge from his lips quite so simply, basically what it boiled down to was that his father had told him he was being transferred by his company to a job in Australia and that the family would be emigrating in a few months. By the time he'd told me all this I was crying as much as him at the idea we were going to be torn apart and living on opposite sides of the globe.

Naturally my parents wanted to know the cause of the upset and after Paul had gone home I told them. They were both stunned and very sympathetic and consoling. During the following days they did come up with the idea of Paul live with us and proposed this to his father, but it was turned down out of hand. For myself I was convinced that his father had somehow engineered the move as a way if splitting us up. But that wasn't something I could prove and I didn't want to suggest it to Paul as I knew he was very, very upset already at what was happening. Plus which he was going to have to continue to live with his parents for a few years at least, so there was no point in adding to what was already a difficult situation.

My parents did point out that at least now we could keep in touch fairly easily by email and Skype so it wasn't like some years ago when phone calls 'down under' were ridiculously expensive and you almost had to rely on letters for contact. They had a point, but we were still going to be thousands of miles apart and had no idea when we'd see each other again.

It turned out that Paul's fathers wasn't required to move until August so his children could stay at their schools until the end of the summer term and they would depart for Australia soon after. That gave us about three months before we were forcibly split, but at least it meant that we could at least celebrate our first anniversary of real togetherness on July 2^nd. By now Paul had taken to spending as much time as he possibly could at my house which of course I loved even though in some ways it would make the separation even harder when it came. Plus which it seemed to be causing even more friction between Paul and his father who by this time had virtually stopped talking to me having decided, according to what Paul told me one night, that it was me who had corrupted his son. Naturally we both though that was hilarious.

Those days in July seemed to flash past and soon afterwards the last night that we would have together arrived as Paul and his family were due to fly out to Melbourne the following day. Much to his father's annoyance Paul insisted that he was going to spend it with me. My mum cooked a special roast dinner for us all and after that we sat, talked and morosely looked through some old photo albums of happier times. Come 10.30 though Paul and I were ready for bed and our last night of kissing, cuddling and sixty nines. We undressed each other, which naturally led to our first blow job of the night and then went and showered. Paul went first and when I came back after mine he was lying naked on top of the bed but with a bath towel underneath him. I was somewhat puzzled as we didn't usually leave much evidence of our sexual activities, but climbed into bed alongside him. We kissed and cuddled, stroked and aroused each other. I was about to go down on Paul when he stopped me. I looked up at him with a worried expression on my face.

"Ally, I really want to do something special tonight. Something we've not done before, but I need something to remember you by. Maybe it'll be something for you to remember me by too."

"What's that Paul?"

"I really want you to make love to me………properly."

I was taken aback. We'd never done it although we had talked about it on a couple of occasions early on but had together decided it was something that should be left until we were older. It hadn't been mentioned since and I hadn't really thought about it since either.

Paul sensed my hesitation and said,

"We don't have to……….I just thought………perhaps if we don't do it now we'll never get the chance."

"Don't say that Paul. We're going to be apart for a few years maybe, but then we can get back together again…….somehow."

"Yeah, but who knows what might happen in those years. Either of us could find someone else."

"Not going to happen, Paul. You've only ever been the one for me."

"And you for me. So, will you?"

"Are you sure you want to. I've heard it's painful and you can't walk properly for the next day or two."

"Well, I ain't gonna be doing much walking. I'll be sat on a bleedin' plane for twenty four hours." Paul retorted with a laugh." And anyway I've got some stuff that makes it easier for both of us." He reached his hand under a pillow and emerged holding a small tube.

And that was how Paul and I came to make love for the only time. It proved to be a night and an experience that has also lived long in both our memories.

That was eleven years ago. We've not seen each other since, but we have kept in touch by email and Skype. I've recently graduated from uni. Paul and I did discuss me taking a gap year and going down to Oz for all or part of that but decided it would be better not to as we'd only have to go through the sadness of having to leave each other again. We've also both been faithful, although I have to confess to being somewhat tempted to stray on one occasion while at uni and I'd not be in the least surprised to know that Paul had to struggle on occasions with all the good looking guys he tells me frequent the beaches down there.

While I went to uni and got a degree in economics and politics, Paul turned into a computer whizz. As a result he has landed himself a great job with a bank and has recently moved into his own apartment which he has been able to buy thanks to a special deal from his employer.

He's sent me pictures of it and it looks great. It only has one bedroom, but as he says, that is all he needs. I guess it won't be long before I get to see it myself as I've just seen the lights come on instructing me to fasten my seatbelt prior to the Qantas Airbus A380-800 landing at Melbourne Airport.

Iomfats.org

It's Only a Game

by Ivor Slipper

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We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну