or whether he had decided to honour his two-year old promise.

Whichever it was, he had a shower and I tucked him up in my big bed (the guest room was naturally "out of service" or rather had an - invisible - guest in it). Once I’d had a shower, I joined him and, without waiting for permission, went down on his long, fat, juicy, cut piece of meat.

He was clearly contented and I had nothing to complain about either, especially when he inundated my throat with hot, bitter cum. Bitter, perhaps (the professors of Cummology say) because of the booze. He didn’t return the compliment, but that was no big deal, because I wanted to save my load for, I hoped, other purposes. As it turned out, we’d drunk so much that we both, at this point, fell asleep.

On the morrow, with just enough time for a short session before leaving for work, I awoke as randy as I usually did. I have always favoured early morning sex, though a lot of people don’t; that was one of my problems with my regular, M.

Fortunately, Joe proved to be of my school of thought, and an exploratory hand showed that he was up and ready for action again, so I blew him and swallowed my reward.

To my intense pleasure, and not a little surprise, he then turned on his belly, apparently inviting me to screw him. Now I have never found that particular position the most successful one for initial entry. That is achieved, in my experience, with both parties lying on their sides.

Next best after that, and the position I managed to get him to adopt on this occasion, was him on his back, legs in the air. After a short sharp rimming, I enjoyed a splendid fuck, only slightly marred by my attack of ejaculatio præcox, an occasional problem of mine, especially when my number excited me excessively.

A thoroughly satisfactory night. When I returned home after the office, I found a little note to say that he had gone home to the wiff, and the keys were in my mailbox. House-trained, he was; he could cum again. But although we continued to meet, and even maintained an affectionate friendship, we never tangled again.

I think he was one of those numbers who only does it once per person per trip, so to speak. After all, when you are as young, and as hunky and as versatile as he was, you must have a wealth of admirers from whom to choose!

As I have explained in E is for ... , Joe. introduced me - at airmail’s length - to Johnny who was working in the Ivory Coast. I only met Johnny once there, but kept in touch, and when he returned to the Eidgenossensschaft - Confederation - sorry about the spelling - he hastened to contact me. Most conveniently, he was sharing a flat (more a room, I was later to discover) with a chum, a very short drive away from my place, until he could get back on his feet (he’d returned broke).

I visited the room once, while Johnny was recuperating from a leg broken in a motorcycle accident. There was a recess, off the sitting room area, which contained two single beds so close together (the recess was so narrow as to preclude any other disposition) as to make them, in effect, a double.

My imagination worked overtime, and queries came up in my mind, especially when I