I was eighteen and had just begun university. It was the mid-80s in Britain. Coming out was difficult.

So I was pleased and scared to hear there was a students' gay society. I plucked up my courage and went along on the first week.

It was a small room off the main bar. It was full of people, men and women. Everyone was friendly. My nerves soon went and I had a couple of drinks and began to enjoy myself. There were a few "freshers" like me and some old hands.

One entered late. His name was Martin. He played rugby and was tall. He seemed to be the absolute opposite of the camp, effeminate men portrayed as gay on television in those days.

He had a relaxed smile and began to chat to a group of us. I think I was not the only one in awe of him. He was twenty-two.

When I went up to the bar for my round, he came with me. He whispered to me that he'd like to spend some time with me to talk about coming out. He slipped my a piece of paper with his address on it. It also said Tuesday, 6pm. He said not to tell the others.

Of course, this was before the internet. No student had a mobile phone. For me, it was a shared landline phone on a corridor of rooms in a hall of residence. It's easy to forget how much more difficult contacting each other was in the 80s.

We sat down and had a pleasant evening. A few of us agreed to meet up the next day for lunch and we built friendships then. But I was really waiting for Tuesday evening.

I was as nervous as I could be as I knocked on the door.

He opened the door and flashed me a wonderful grin. "David, so glad you could make it, come in!"

He hugged me but did not touch me inappropriately.

We chatted as he cooked. It was lasagne. I wished I had thought to bring some wine. He laughed it off. He said he had plenty.

Students tended to share houses but Martin lived alone in a flat for which his father paid the rent.

We talked about my home town, how he'd come out and what it was like to be young and gay in Britain at the time.

He served me the food and poured me a glass of wine and asked whether I'd ever had a boyfriend.

I was honest. I had done nothing with a man. I was a virgin.

Martin smiled at me. "I'm not," he said. "But we all have to start somewhere."

He got more flirty and complimented me on my clothes, my hair and said I was good looking and shouldn't find it too hard to get a boyfriend.

I was flattered and a little lost for words.

After we'd eaten, Martin suggested we go to the sitting room to make ourselves more comfortable. We did and he sat next to me on the sofa. He draped his arm over my shoulder. I felt a tingling.

He then put a hand on my knee and said: "David, I'd like to kiss you."

I could feel myself getting hard as soon as he said it.

I mumbled a yes and he turned to me and began to kiss gently, his tongue entering and exploring after a few seconds.

"You're hot," he said. "Should we take off our clothes?"

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was with a man for the first time and it was a man like Martin.

He took off his shirt to reveal a muscular, hairy chest. I took off mine. I was slim.

He licked my nipples and smiled.

Then he took off his shoes and his jeans. I followed suit.

I could see he was hard. I was as hard as I'd ever been.

When he took off his underwear, I gasped. His cock was a lot bigger than mine. I was embarrassed to show him my cock.

He ended up pulling off my underpants.

"Now we're naked, David. It's great isn't it?"

"But my cock's so much smaller than yours."

He laughed. "Yours is perfectly fine. Cocks come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. And I'm just a bit bigger than most!"

He kissed me hard again. I followed his lead as he began to gently wank my cock. I touched his.

He moved to suck mine, which was heavenly. Then he moved back and sat back. He nodded at me to suck his, which i did, clumsily at first. I savoured the taste.

He closed his eyes. "Yes, David, keep going." I touched his balls as I sucked him.

He moved my head from his cock and kissed me.

"David, I'd like to make love to you," he said.

I shuddered. I didn't know what to expect. Unlike these days, there was no porn on the web to look at. All I knew was that some men fucked others up their bottoms. I didn't know what to say.

He stood up and took me by the hand. "Let's go to the bedroom," he said. "I will be gentle. I know it's your first time."

We walked upstairs and went to his bedroom, which was tidy and clean. There was a big bed in the middle of it.

Martin lifted me on it and laid me on my back.

He then straddled my body and kissed me hard on the lips again, then probed my mouth with his tongue.

He pushed my legs up and entered my hole with a finger. He smiled at me and told me that I would enjoy myself.

The fingering was sore but then he leant over and opened a jar. He put some lube on his finger and circled it in my hole.

He also pulled out a packet of condoms from a drawer. We'd heard of Aids only the year before and we knew we had to be careful.

He pushed the condom down his dick and then added lube to it and my hole.

"I am going to be gentle, David. But this is your first time. You will feel some pain."

I was lying on the bed, legs in the air. He was above me. My first time was going to be in the missionary position.

He then aimed his cock at my hole and slowly began to push.

Of course these days I know how to relax my muscles and accept and enjoy the moment. Then the muscles tensed and, frankly, I was a bit scared.

But Martin was patient. First he kissed me deeply and then he slowly pushed forwards and then there was that point where he went through the sphincter. It hurt but he was now in me. He pushed further in.

My mind was in turmoil. I did feel pain. But a very attractive man was now inside me. This was the first time I was going to have gay sex.

Once he was fully in, his balls against my arse, he kissed me again and said: "OK?"

I nodded and he withdrew a bit and then pushed forward. The fuck began.

I touched my cock as he fucked me and he put his hand on my hand and moved it away.

"I don't want you to cum too soon, darling. Just let me fuck you and enjoy it."

The fuck began to build. He was smiling and groaning. I began to feel the electricity of being fucked. My cock leapt as he fucked harder.

In fact, I realised that I was getting closer and closer to cumming myself, even without touching my cock.

The rhythm began to change. I knew instinctively that he was close. As he juddered, I came high and on his chest.

He thrust hard in me as spurt after spurt must have filled the condom.

Eventually, he was spent but he left his still-hard cock inside me.

"That was great, especially for the first time, David." He kissed me.

I was in a daze. I'd cum. I'd been fucked. A man still had his cock inside me.

As his cock softened, he removed it from me and took the condom off. He wrapped it in tissue and put it in a bin.

Then he cuddled me. We spooned. His soft cock nestled along my arse crack. It felt so natural.

"David, I loved that. Would you like to do it again?"

I said yes.

He said that he had something he needed to tell me.

I was worried but he said I shouldn't worry at all.

He said he had a partner who was in another city and that he had been planning to break up with him. But he wanted to do it face-to-face and that couldn't be till Christmas.

He asked me not to tell anyone, especially in the gay society, that we'd have sex and - he hoped - would have sex a lot more.

At this point, I just wanted to have sex with him no matter what. I said it didn't matter and that I'd love to have more sex with him.

He nibbled my neck as we spooned and I felt his cock harden again.

So we carried on like this. Every Tuesday I went to his flat. He cooked for us and then we fucked, although he always described it as making love. I relaxed more and became a good bottom, even if I say so myself.

When the Christmas holidays came, Martin left a few days before the rest of us to visit his parents and he missed the gay society Christmas party.

We'd had a few to drink and I got chatting to my friend Neil. I confessed that Martin and I had been having sex every Tuesday.

He went pale. He said Martin had been making love to him every Wednesday but had told him not to say anything because he was going to break up with his long-distance boyfriend.

He'd told us the same thing. It turned out he'd also fucked two others at the party too, although not weekly like with us.

Neil said he'd never see him again. I was less sure.

I wanted to talk to him. But he had gone. We didn't have mobile phones. We didn't have social media. I had no idea of his parents' address.

An agonising four weeks stretched ahead of us before I'd see Martin again.

I was miserable. I didn't know what my relationship with Martin was. I had assumed he'd be my official boyfriend after Christmas when he'd finished with his long-distance boyfriend. But, to be fair, he'd never actually said that.

Eventually the four weeks elapsed and I went back to university, unsure of what would happen.

I got back on a Sunday, dropped off my gear at the halls of residence and went straight to Martin's flat, hoping he'd be in.

I knocked on the door and he opened it, surprised to see me.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said. "I've missed you."

He went to kiss me. I moved out of the way.

"Well, did you split up with your long-distance boyfriend?"

Martin gulped and then smiled. He said I shouldn't worry.

Then I told him I knew that he'd been fucking Neil and two of the others from the group.

Martin hugged me. He said he couldn't lie. He had been fucking other men. And he then told me the story about the long-distance boyfriend was a total fabrication. He just didn't want us to talk about his affairs.

"But you made it sound so special with me," I said.

"It is special," he replied. "I love to make love to you."

He kissed me on the lips. I should have broken away. But I didn't. I responded. He put his hand on my arse and traced the crack through my jeans. I instantly got aroused.

Almost before I knew where we were, he was deep inside me, fucking me better than ever.

After we finished, he spooned me and asked what I was thinking.

"I wanted you to be my boyfriend," I said. "I wanted you."

Martin kissed my neck. "You have to understand that I cannot be faithful to one man," he said. "I'm just not built like that. I'm sorry that I ever misled you."

I felt a tear run down my cheek.

"But we can still make love. The fact that I have other boyfriends doesn't need to stop that."

"Other boyfriends? So I am A boyfriend?"

"Of course. And if you want to have other boyfriends, why not?" He nibbled my ear.

The thing was, I didn't want other boyfriends.

His cock hardened again and I knew he'd be fucking me again within five minutes.

The next day I met Neil. I told him I had decided to just use Martin for sex and find other men too.

He snorted. "You're kidding yourself," he said. "He's just using you."

"And I'm using him," I replied, although I knew how one-sided the relationship really was.

As time progressed, I discovered Martin was having regular sex with one of the men in the rugby team (who had a girlfriend) and a 40-year-old course leader on his physics degree, which put both in a strange position. He also had a lot of one-offs.

He continued to fuck me on Tuesdays and occasionally at the weekends. I even stayed over from time to time.

I never found any other boyfriends.

Then the summer came and Martin graduated, while i had two years to go.

Martin told me I'd always be special to him and he fucked me five times in one night soon before he left the university.

I kissed him passionately as always. But I knew the end was coming. He had taught me so much and given me so much. But when he graduated, we'd lose touch. And that was probably for the best, I tried to rationalise.

The day came. I had tears in my eyes as I kissed him for the last time. He actually had tears in his.

I left the flat before his father arrived to pick him up.

And that was it till 2017.

Thirty years on, there was the internet, mobile phones and social media. It was so easy to find and be found.

I had googled him and discovered he now taught physics at a university in Yorkshire.

Then I found him on Facebook and spent days wondering whether to make a friend request. And then I did.

He responded quickly and we had a messenger chat about life and he even apologised for treating me so badly.

He was now living with a civil partner and had two dogs. Suburban bliss.

We exchanged numbers and occasionally messaged. But then one week about a year later I had to go to Leeds for work and he was only a short drive away.

Should I ask to meet up? What the hell? We were both in our fifties now. Things had changed.

He said yes.

I drove there and found the house, a nice 1930s semi with an unkempt garden at the front.

I rang the doorbell. Martin answered. Unmistakably Martin. Tall, good looking, some grey hair now and some wrinkles around his eyes. If anything he was more muscular. Clearly a gym lover now.

I entered the house. We hugged. He placed a finger on the crack of my arse and rubbed it,

His boyfriend came out of the kitchen to say hello. He was only about thirty. Very muscular, a gym nut. He was wearing gym gear.

Martin introduced us and Joel shook my hand. He said he hated to be rude but he had to go off to the gym, where he was a personal trainer,

He kissed Martin goodbye and told us to have fun. He winked at Martin, knowing I could see it.

Martin saw him out of the door and came back to me. He hugged me again and, with his hand on my arse, kissed me deeply.

"I was going to sit down, have a drink and chat," he said. "But I'd rather just take you to bed."

I was totally hard. I just nodded.

And it suddenly became the 80s again. He told me he wanted to "make love" to me. A shiver went down my spine.

He lubed me just like the old days. But, because we were both on PrEP, now we dispensed with the condom.

He pushed inside me again and I felt like I was eighteen again. Nobody had ever fucked me as well as Martin, I realised.

And now he was fucking me again. If anything it was better than before. No condom. Years more experience. And he gave me another hands-free orgasm.

I wanted him more than ever.