THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SCHOOLBOY
A MEMOIR BY THOMAS TOMKINS, VI

Presented here with his kind permission is Chapter Six of the hitherto unpublished memoir of his youth of a retired English publisher written under the pen name Thomas Tomkins and finished in 2026.

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Chapter Six

How long we lay in that position I do not know, since I lapsed quite quickly into sleep. When I woke in the morning, I was lying on my left side, facing the window, but Mr Pascoe had rolled over and was facing in the opposite direction. I yawned and stretched, which woke him, and he turned over so that he was again holding me in the curve of his body. I discovered that I again needed the lavatory, and upon my return Mr Pascoe went upon the same errand. When he returned, he closed the door, then paused, looking from the doorway at me in his bed. 

“We don’t need to get up yet”, he said. He got back into the bed, and I felt his hand moving gently down my pyjama-clad back. I moved in closer to share his warmth and tentatively put an arm around his neck. He responded, as I had hoped he would, with another warm embrace. I could feel his erection pressing against my legs and his breath came faster. My arms went around him and my face pressed into the hollow of his shoulder.  I was not, of course, so ignorant as to be unaware of what this all meant. There had been youthful fumblings with other boys, and mutual masturbation was, if not a commonplace, at least not unusual among boys in the senior years.

Mr Pascoe’s hand slid down my front, unbuttoning my pyjama jacket, and then slid down further, exploring the opening in the front of the pyjama trousers and gently clasping my penis, by then fully erect.  Equally gently, he began to rub it with his soft, warm hand. I wondered whether I dared touch him in the same place, when his hand left my penis, took my hand and guided it to his own.  I don’t know why I should have found it surprising that he was uncircumcised; perhaps it was that the only other adult penis I had seen was my father’s which, like mine, had been cut. But as my hand wrapped around it and I found the looser skin of the undamaged head so exciting that I ejaculated instantly, the sensation of my orgasm so strong that it was almost painful. Since I had not wanked since leaving school the previous week the amount I produced was also quite copious. Almost immediately he also came to orgasm, flooding my hand.  He leaned over and picked up his handkerchief from the bedside locker, cleaning first my penis and then his own.  I turned over and curled up, whereupon he too curled up, one arm under my head and the other arched protectively over my body. I slept again, warmly curled into the curve of his body, content and happy.

At this stage I think I must make it clear that what happened between Mr Pascoe and myself, although clearly very pleasurable to him, was at my instigation, and had I wanted at any time to withdraw from our sexual activity, he would have immediately respected that.  In no sense was I “abused”; the whole experience had been thoroughly enjoyable. I suppose the question could be asked, whether he had “taken advantage of” me, at a time when I was vulnerable and much in need of love. To this my answer is unhesitatingly, No. Firstly, I had taken at least as much advantage of him as he of me, and secondly his warm and brotherly affection gave me exactly what I needed at that time (and indeed on many occasions later); the sex acts which we performed then and on many other occasions grew out of the affection and trust that each had from the other.

* * *

I think I slept for an hour or more, until I was wakened by Mr Pascoe with the information that we must make haste or we would miss breakfast. As I looked around before leaving, that dingy hotel room seemed lit with a golden glow.

As it happened, the train from Liverpool Street had few passengers, and we had a compartment to ourselves as far as Cambridge.  I don’t remember whether I made any verbal promise that I would not tell anyone of our night in that hotel, or if it was just tacitly understood. I would not have told any of my schoolfellows as I would not have wanted to share my new-found love with anyone. And I would not have told any adult, as even then I realised that it would have embarrassed Mr Pascoe, if nothing worse. But I arrived back at St Mark’s in his company, and with my secret knowledge of him in my heart like a jewel in a silken cloth.