July 1966

Of course, I had attempted the juvenile fumbling with friends but, coming from a strict catholic family in the North of England, the very idea of any form of sex was likely to send me tumbling into the pits of hell, or so I thought. This was 1966; 9 years after Lord Wolfenden had advised the British government that homosexuality should not be a criminal offense and one year before they partially decriminalized gay sex.

I was eighteen years old, naive, cute with dark eyebrows and curly blond hair, slim and standing only about five and a half feet. Looking at photographs from those days I understand why all my parents friends called me 'pretty'; I was a pedophile’s dream.

I lived in a quiet, seaside resort in the North-West of England famous only for its windmill and its snobbery, an appealing but very boring place. However, only five miles to the north lay Blackpool: bright, brassy and tawdry but appearing like a magnetic city of iniquity to my young eyes. Its appeal was further enhanced by my parents’ directives that I was not to enter Blackpool without either their protection or at least that of a full regiment of morality police.

A couple of years previously, my parents had joined the entrepreneurial class and purchased a shop. When we moved in it was just a bakers and cake shop, but in the first year they had changed it into a general store that provided everything needed for all the holidaymakers’ needs from ice cream to groceries. I worked in the shop on weekends and was surprised at the number of men that chose Saturday to come and do their shopping or Sunday, when I usually worked alone, to come and buy something they obviously did not need.

Above the shop was our home. On the first floor was most of the living accommodation and on the second just bedrooms for my sister and myself. However part of this second floor was separate flat, with its own entrance, and we inherited a tenant, an old lady who could be heard bumping around, but was hardly ever seen. There was a door, right next to my bedroom, which led into the flat, but it was permanently locked. One day the bumping stopped and the ambulance arrived. My father opened the locked door, renovated the flat and decided to let it as a holiday apartment.

From early in May our tenants arrived on a weekly basis; usually families with kids and pushchairs and it became one of my tasks to clean up the apartment and often greet the new arrivals.

July arrived and, unusually for the north-west, it was hot and sunny and as high school was out I was free and enjoying the weather, spending most of my days at the beach or the swimming pool. By late July, I was tanned and getting bored. I was asked to greet our next renters one Sunday as my parents had to go to some event. They arrived in the late afternoon in an old Ford and I was stunned. Instead of snotty-nosed kids, four great looking guys emerged. I must have looked like a total idiot, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish and blushing cherry red. They seemed so old and mature. In fact, they were all only about five years older than me. They told me they had all been school friends for years, came from a small town outside Glasgow, played on the same rugby team and this was their first holiday away without parents. I showed them the flat and they asked me about the area, where to go and what to do. Unusually they were staying for a full two weeks. 

Later that evening, lying on my bed I heard them talking all laughing but soon it went quiet and I guessed they had headed out for the evening. In the early hours of the morning I heard them return and imagined them only a few feet from as they headed to bed. All through the week I spent my time daydreaming about them and listening to their voices muffled through the wall.

On Friday, I decided to head to the beach and found a quiet spot in the sand dunes, laid out my towel and disappeared into a book. Suddenly I realized a shadow had fallen across me and looked up to see the four guys standing there. They asked if it was okay if they joined me. OK? I thought it was incredible that such guys could even be interested in a kid like me.

I suppose I should describe the guys. The youngest was Charlie. He was 18, with clear blue eyes and sandy hair. He stood over six feet tall and always seemed to smile. He was starting university in the autumn. Ian was a year older, slim with dark looks and green eyes and always had a wicked twinkle in his eyes. He was working in his father’s building company. Paul was also 19, appeared quite serious, and was in his first year at university studying Jurisprudence (he explained that was law in Scotland). He was tall and strong and spoke with a quiet voice. Lastly their was Michael. He was the joker in the pack, always laughing and joking. He was 20 and had brown curly hair, deep brown eyes and a ready smile. He had already had a number of jobs and was intending to join the army later that year.

As they slipped off their clothes I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Every one of them had a beautiful body, lean and muscled; I guess rugby was the reason. Ian and Michael had hair on their bodies and the other two were smooth. They stretched out in the sun and I had to roll over onto my stomach to hide my interest. Maybe that was a mistake as I have learned through the years that my butt has a serious effect on other guys. They chatted and laughed, told me about themselves and asked me about my life and school. Gradually I relaxed and was really surprised that they actually liked me. They talked about girlfriends and rugby, families and friends and about their week. They had been heading up to Blackpool each evening, drinking and going to the funfair and generally doing everything all the tourists did. 

As the sun started to dip we headed back. Just before we reached home Michael turned and said: “Why don’t you come out with us this evening?”

Normally Friday night was the youth club for table tennis and music and hanging about with friends. However that Friday I knew my parents were out for the evening at Golf Club dinner and would not be home until late. I really surprised myself by agreeing.

I was so nervous that evening that I could hardly eat. My parents left about seven with strict admonitions not to stay out at the youth club too late. After they left I got dressed but could hardly do up the buttons on my shirt, my hands kept shaking. By this time I knew where the key to door to the apartment was kept so I left my room, unlocked the door and walked through to the boys’ apartment. They were all ready and we headed off to Blackpool.

We went to the Pleasure Beach, a giant funfair and rode the Big Dipper and other rides and had ice cream. We then walked down the Promenade to a massive pub. I had never been in a pub or really had any beer. I thought I would never be allowed in, being so young. But the boys just walked in and I went with them and nobody seemed to worry. I had my first full pint of beer and then another and gently slid into a warm feeling of euphoria. They then decided to go to a nearby strip club. I am not sure I even knew what a strip club was but was certain I would never get in. However, at the door, they surrounded me and slipped me through unnoticed into the dark. The room was large and had a small stage. The music started and a girl appeared. Actually she looked much more like my mother than my sister. I only remember being mesmerized that she could rotate the tassels on her tits in opposite directions. For the next hour, in my inebriated state, I watched as more women undressed to tinny pop music. But I was happy being treated so adult and with these great guys.

About eleven we arrived back and I said I had better go in to my own home. As we parted Charlie said: “Come through later if you get the chance.” 

I went upstairs to my room and a few minutes later my parents arrived. They said goodnight and disappeared. Within a few minutes the house was quiet but I could hear the boys through my wall. I changed back into my clothes and opened the door and went through to the lounge. They were all sat on the floor, drinking beer and listening to music. I joined them and they poured me a beer. They were talking about the strip club and the girls and bemoaning the fact they had not been able to bring any of the ‘girls’ back for the night. The beer was gradually taking effect on us all. Michael got up and changed the record, putting on “Wild Thing” by the Trogs. He started to gyrate and gradually remove his clothes. Not the best dancer in the world it set us all into fits of laughter. When he finally was down to his shorts, he came back and sat in an armchair and said: “Come on, David, let’s see how good you are”.

It may have been the beer or the boys but my shyness disappeared and I got up. Ian turned off the main light leaving only a small lamp on. He tipped the shade to throw the light on me. I started to move, copying the dancing I had seen earlier and trying to be a sexy as I could. I stripped down to my short and bent over with my back to them waving my butt just as the girls had done. As the music ended I went back to sit in front of Michael on the floor. Charlie took my place and started to strip. Michael reached down and lifted me into his lap and wrapped his arm around my chest. As Charlie danced I could feel Michael growing beneath me. His breath was on the back of my neck and he was rubbing my chest. By the time it was Paul’s turn I had an erection that was actually causing pain. Paul had a great body and danced as though he was in a dream. As he moved Michael’s hand slipped down to my groin and started to rub me. Charlie came across and slowly slipped my shorts down. My teenage erection sprang free and Charlie took it in his mouth as Michael rubbed my cheeks. As the music ended, Charlie reach down and picked my off Michael’s lap and carried me through to one of the bedrooms. This bedroom had two double beds and he laid me on one. As he did so he removed his shorts and his cock sprung out. Ian and Paul sat on the other bed and watched as Charlie knelt above my chest and I took his cock into my mouth. It was delicious and as he started to groan I felt my legs lifted and a tongue entering my ass. It was Michael. He licked and sucked and I drifted into ecstasy. Charlie pulled away and then started to kiss me. As he did so I felt Michael enter me. For a second their was pain but then pure pleasure as he pushed as deep as he could. With Charlie kissing my mouth and rubbing my tits I felt Michael grow and explode within me. He gently withdrew and then Charlie rolled me over and pulled me to kneeling position as he entered me. H was much more forceful and pumped as though it was an Olympic sport. Within seconds he came and I exploded all over the bed. We collapsed on to the bed. 

After a few moment Charlie rose and I felt another hand on my back. It was Ian. He lifted me from the bed and took me in his arms. He kissed me hard driving his tongue far into my mouth. He carried me to the other bed where Paul was lying on his back stroking the most amazing erection I had ever seen. I, of course had not seen many. Ian lifted me onto Paul and he entered me. I felt like I was going to burst. As I gradually rose and fell on Paul’s monster member Ian stood on the bed and placed his cock in my mouth. I must have gone a little crazy because I rode Paul as fast as I could and sucked Ian as though my life depended on it. They came together and we collapsed back on the bed. 

The next couple of hours were incredible. They cuddled and fucked and touched me over and over. At about 3 a.m. I slipped out of the room as they lay sleeping in tousled bedclothes and an intense smell of manhood and sex and went back to my own bed. 

Each night that week was different. One night it would be all of them lining up, one after the other. The next I would spend with one of them cuddled and kissed all night, creeping back to my room in the early dawn. I even found that “Sex-on-the-Beach” was not just a cocktail.

On the Saturday, I was asleep on my own bed, but woke as my pajama bottoms were slowly removed and Michael took me gently and really made love to me. It was the most intense love-making of my life. At midday they loaded up their old Ford and hugged me and said goodbye. I thought my heart would break.

I went up to the empty flat and stripped the beds. I did not want my mother to see the very clear evidence of my first week of fun. The place felt so empty and cold without them and I started to cry. Finally finishing the cleaning I went back to my room. On my bed was a parcel. Inside I found new jeans and shirts, photographs we had taken on the beach of the five of us, their addresses and the record “Wild Thing”. 

Of course we did mean to stay in touch. I did write a couple of letters and received some postcards but gradually it all just became a memory. I guess that it might have remained just that.

Fifteen years later I was visiting Glasgow for my work. Walking down the street I suddenly felt I was being watched. I looked across the street and there was a good looking guy with his wife and two children. I thought I recognized him but could not remember how. I smiled and walked on. As I turned the next corner I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned and looked into Michael’s brown eyes. He looked the same but older. I was so surprised he knew me. He explained he hardly ever came into the city but was there to do some shopping. He asked if I wanted to meet for a beer that night. I gave him my hotel name and room number and we agreed to meet at 7.30.

Right on time I heard a tap on the door of my room. I opened it and nearly fainted for there stood not only Michael but all four of them. Michael had called Charlie, Ian and Paul and they had driven miles to be there. We never did get that beer that night but brought back a lot of memories and made some new ones. I even made Charlie and Ian squeal as I reminded them of what they done to me.

We still remain friends and all remember those days in July 1966.