Looking back, I think it was the amount of whisky I had consumed that got me through what should have been a nightmare of a night spent completely naked alongside my naked brother-in-law in my marital bed. I was goosed, teased and groped from the moment we got under the covers, but conscious of not objecting too loudly for fear of waking the boys and their coming to see what was going on, I was forced to succumb.
Looking back, I am cross with myself that I so easily succumbed to Derek’s unwanted blandishments, his teasing of my nipples, his unwarranted osculatory invasion of my manhood, and that I embarrassingly appeared to rise to the occasion very much opposed to the situation in which I had become involved. That I was forced and even goaded into a mortifying orgasmic release is beyond shaming, and that Derek saw it as his triumph only served to multiply my sense of guilt.
In the very bed I had shared with my beloved and much-missed wife, I had been forced into a humiliating sex-act with her brother, of all people.
That I fell to and slept the sleep of the blameless after having been involved in such a degrading act, can be blamed upon the amount of alcohol I had consumed. It was as if Derek had conspired to have his wicked way with me . . . . . or was that how I was attempting to square my conscience, and pile all the blame upon my brother-in-law and the whisky with which he plied me?
I am a perfectly normal man with perfectly normal needs, and after Sue died it took me some time to come to terms with the sort of pursuits I had followed as a young teenager satisfying my entirely natural urges. Yes, at first, I felt guilty at the betrayal of my wife’s memory, but my guilt was assuaged in time as my needs grew and demanded satisfaction. But that birthday night with Derek in my bed – our bed, our marital bed – I was ashamed and disgusted, and also horrified as I was forced to recollect my burst of sexual excitement.
I froze as I felt Derek stir beside me. Fingers fumbled for my penis, and I leapt from my bed.
“No, Derek!” My voice almost squealed.
He looked at me with a puzzled grin.
“What’s the matter?” he asked with a laugh in his voice. “You enjoyed it last night. We both did.”
“I did not enjoy it!” I said sharply.
He looked me up and down.
“The dried semen on your body says otherwise,” he said smugly with a knowing smile.
I looked down at my naked body. I was hard now, and I knew it was foolhardy to attempt to use my hands to cover my obvious arousal and yet I didn’t want him looking at me in that state.
“That truly is a magnificent weapon you have between your manly thighs, Tony, old man,” Derek said with a leering growl. “I look forward to getting my hands on it again in the not-too-distant future.”
I grabbed my towelling robe and thrust my arms into it, wrapping it tightly round me.
“That will not happen,” I said firmly.
“You mean I can’t persuade you to play for our team occasionally?”
I looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“Your team?” I echoed.
“Oh, come on, Tony. Surely you knew, didn’t you? Sue did.” Derek said with a grin.
“What on earth are you talking about? Sue knew what?”
“That I bat for the other side.”
“You mean, she knew you were . . .” I baulked at the fence like a young colt.
“She asked me, and I told her. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No.” I said, stunned at this news. “I mean we had discussed the possibility. After what had occurred at your twenty-first. But she never said she had spoken to you about it,” I added.
“You’re on about at the country club, when the gang stripped me starkers, and everyone could blatantly see how much I was enjoying all the attention?”
“Erm, yes.” I said, as I recalled the rigidity of his excitement at the situation in which he found himself.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve relived that night, and shot my load every time,” he said grasping his engorged member and frantically rubbing at it.
I looked away.
“I seem to remember a rather impressive red bulge in your underpants when they all turned on you and got your keks down. I thought then and there that I might have got an ambidextrous brother-in-law. And last night went a long way towards verifying my suspicions,”
“Well, you are very much barking up the wrong tree there, I can assure you,” I responded rather huffily.
“Oh, I don’t know. Tell me, does the name Daniel Toft mean anything to you?”
Toft! I suddenly became aware of my heart beating a shade faster. It must have been close on twenty years since. What did Derek think he knew? Strangely enough, the holder of that name had featured in my thoughts again only recently since Sue had died.
“I knew a boy called Toft at school,” I admitted somewhat reluctantly after a few moments of thought.
“You were very much on his team in those days, apparently,” he said as he continued to pull slowly on his penis.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your not being allowed to wear trousers when you were alone with him.”
“Who on earth told you that?”
“He did.”
“There were lots of silly games, bets, forfeits – that sort of thing, I don’t remember.”
“He remembers clearly. He said you liked obeying his orders. It turned you on.”
“Nonsense!”
“Just as much as it turned you on last night when I ordered you to sleep naked with me. And just as much as you are turned on now, thinking about it.”
He snatched my gown open to reveal my rigid and fully upright tumescence. I made to cover up again fast.
“Don’t!” he said sternly, then, more slowly, “Leave it open – in fact, take it off.”
I stared at him; my hands frozen in the act of pulling it round me again.
“Go on, Tony. Take it off,”
I swallowed hard and blinked back the moisture that suddenly flooded my eyes. Shrugging the garment off my shoulders, I felt it slither down my arms and pool on the floor at my ankles.
I stood naked and turgid facing him. He continued to pull at his member. I remember I stared to tremble and my teeth chattered in my closed mouth, as Derek began to relate what he had learnt from Daniel Toft.
“You were at school together, weren’t you?”
I nodded. “I told you that just now,” I murmured.
“You lived quite close, but, in spite of that, you used to have sleepovers together, in each other’s houses. He said you liked to go to his house more often than him coming to yours, do you remember?”
I looked out of the window.
“But do you remember why, Tony? Daniel thought he knew why. It was because he never let you wear the pyjamas you always brought with you, wasn’t it? He made you sleep in the nude, didn’t he?” And that always excited you, didn’t it?”
I blinked back more tears.
“And then he told me about the train journeys you had together. The daily commute to and from school. When the carriages were so full and you were pressed up together, he used to tickle your cock through your trousers to make you hard. You had a big cock for your age even then, he said, and he liked to embarrass you by making it stick out the front of your trousers. He even used to make you spunk in your undies, didn’t he Tony?”
I shuddered as I recalled the first time Daniel did that to me. It was a Friday afternoon, very crowded, even on the platform. When the train came in, we all piled on and stood pressed close up to each other and even against the doors when they slid to. I remember I was standing right behind Daniel, my left hand against his bottom. I turned it round and, with my index finger, I started tickling him. I began to push it into the crack of his buttocks, pushing the dark grey flannel right up between his cheeks.
He managed to turn round and gave me a filthy look and I remember wanting to laugh. But now he was in a position to get his right hand to touch the fork of my trousers and he began to tickle my balls. We were pressed so close up to each other that you couldn’t even look down. I could just feel him, and I could also tell that his touching me was having an effect on me. Suddenly I was aware that his fingers were moving higher and then I felt my zipper being slowly opened. I felt his fingers now exploring my underwear, trying to pull it down inside my trousers. I felt the elastic waistband slipping down my buttocks, and I spurted hotly into the pouch of my briefs. He knew what had happened. The look of triumph on his face; he knew he had me. He had me hooked.
Suddenly, we were aware of movement, someone going to the bathroom. Derek said I could put on my robe again, but as I went to my drawer for a fresh pair of underpants, he told me I was allowed nothing else. One garment only; I had to go downstairs for breakfast in either just a pair of underpants or only my towelling robe. Meekly, I agreed, and kept the robe.
“Daniel would approve,” Derek said with a satisfied smile.
Since it was a Sunday, it had long been a tradition that we have a cooked breakfast. This was started by Sue when the boys were still quite young, and it was a ritual that was sadly missed after her death, until I was prevailed upon by them to start it up again soon after we had got the worst of our grieving over, so with platefuls of bacon, sausage, eggs, grilled tomatoes, baked beans and fried bread, we all sat down to a hearty breakfast.
As I sat down, Derek, by now fully clothed, took my plate from me and in a lightning action, flipped my robe open and stuck the plate under my penis.
“Look fellers, greedy Dad’s given himself two sausages!” he crowed.
“Oh, my mistake! It’s only Tony’s Todger, isn’t it?”
Loud hilarity and humour at my expense, with further remarks about, at first, they’re thinking I was very greedy with having left the largest sausage for myself, I was mortified, and what was even worse, I had to wipe baked bean sauce from the plate off my scrotum.
“Oh, let me sponge all that stuff off your dressing gown, Tony!” Derek said as he unceremoniously stripped me of it. “Sit down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Stark naked, I reluctantly sat, with my two sons, also both fully-clad, ogling my nudity, and began to eat a breakfast which, by that time, had rather lost its appeal. They all found it highly amusing. What a great feller Uncle Dekka was! A laugh a minute! Tony’s Todger! It bucked slightly at its new-found name.
Derek went home in the afternoon, and that night I went to bed alone – and naked.
I lay there, and found myself thinking of Daniel Toft. Derek had brought him up that morning. A quarter of a century ago, for heaven’s sake! He had found my pyjamas ugly, not to his taste. ‘You’re not getting into my bed wearing those!’ he had said. ‘D’you want me to get in without them, then?’ I had suggested sarcastically. ‘Yes!’ he’d said. ‘Take them off at once!’ and I had done so. It was a sort of dare really; nothing more. At first, anyway.
I think he liked the feeling of power he had over me; that he could dictate things, and I’d just sort of go along with it and obey him.
I was musing like this when suddenly the ‘phone rang. I glanced at my watch as I reached out for the receiver. It was ten to twelve.
“Hullo?” I said quietly.
“Tony?”
“Yes? Who’s that?”
“It’s Daniel. Daniel Toft.”
“Daniel? But how . . . ?”
“Derek gave me your number.”
“Derek? My brother-in-law, Derek?”
"Yes. We met up recently and found out we knew a few of the same people and then he mentioned you, and we started chatting quite a bit about you and all the old times you and I had together.”
“Oh,” I said, my mind running on a bit.
“It’s a bit late, I know, but I thought I’d give you a buzz. Are you in bed yet?”
“Yes. Yes, I am, actually.”
“What are you wearing? Not your hideous choice of pyjamas, I hope? D’you remember?”
“I remember. And no, I’m not wearing hideous pyjamas!”
“Are you naked?”
My heart started to beat much faster.
“Erm, yes I am, as it so happens.”
“Good boy!" he said,and rang off.
Good boy, he had said, and it excited me.
I laid back down and let my mind wander back to my schooldays with Daniel Toft, my best friend.
Do you remember the card game, “Strip Jack Naked”? Two players had half a pack each in their hands, face down. Each card was played face up and if you played a face card or an ace, then the other player had to put down one card for a Jack, two for a Queen, three for a King, or four for an Ace. If the cards played were all lower cards, then the person who had played the face card picked them all up. You could only stop the pick-up if you played another face card during the forfeit. And, eventually, one player was left with no cards left, “stripped naked”.
It was Daniel who suggested we played it for real, the loser having to be stripped naked by the winner. Thinking back, he did more than suggest it; he insisted that it be adopted as the major rule to our playing. I remember the first time I lost, and Daniel stripped me. He didn’t do it fast with an air of triumph, as I know I would have done. He did it very slowly and methodically, one button at a time, peeling my shirt off ever so slowly, pulling up my vest to reveal my nipples – even rubbing them a little to emphasise their exposure and vulnerability. The zipper on my trousers seemed to descend tooth by tooth, the trousers allowed to succumb to the Law of Gravity. With fingers and thumb clutching the very hem of the leg hole of my white school briefs, they were teased down, forcing the by now sizeable stiffness that had occurred within down until its very end was exposed by the elastic waistband being dragged over it and it sprang up to smack against my belly and reveal that I had truly lost and, like Jack, had been stripped entirely naked
My hand crept under the bedclothes to confirm my suspicion that such a recollection had created an aroused state, and as I enfolded my fingers almost tremblingly around it, my bedroom door opened.
It was Elyot.
“Dad?” a small plaintive voice called softly. “Are you awake?”
“What is it, Elyot?” I asked, my hand frozen.
“I’ve just had the most horrible dream. It was about Mum. She wasn’t dead, but she was hurt and begging me to help, and I couldn’t get to her. It was horrible!”
I could tell my fourteen-year-old was on the verge of tears. I sat up and put on the bedside lamp.
“I’m sorry, Elyot. Yes, that was horrible. Come here.”
He came and flung himself on top of me, and I could feel the suppressed sobs in his body. He was fourteen, for heaven’s sake. I hugged him to me and stroked his hair.
“Dreams can be horribly real sometimes, can’t they?”
We talked a little bit about Sue – happy times we’d had together – and I told him how very pleased and proud she was when he was born, and he nestled on my chest and listened, drawing comfort and settling.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” he asked quietly.
I was suddenly faced with my nudity. My state of arousal had by this time subsided, but I was still uneasy about sharing the bed with my son, he, in just a pair of rather short boxers and me, stark naked.
“Tell you what,” I said, with a sudden burst of inspiration, “You go back and slip on your dressing gown, and I’ll do the same and then you can come back here.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said and gave me a quick hug before leaping off and out of the room. I leapt out of bed and grabbed my towelling robe, the one Derek had refused to let me wear the night before.
We both got into bed and lay close against each other and very soon he fell asleep with some murmurs of comfort and relief.
