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It was a late summer evening in the Armstrong household, where the main living room was bathed in a golden glow of soft lamps and a glorious Wimbledon sunset, and the air was perfumed with the heady scent of cut grass, an Indian takeaway, spaniel flatulence, and a faint hint of cigarettes.
Joe and Andy were sprawled on a sofa with Sam the spaniel curled up beside them; Joe studying a Robin Hood script whilst Andy was engrossed in a biography of Aleister Crowley. It was, in every way, a scene of drowsy contentment.
All the same, while the two men were doing their utmost to try and ignore it, the sound of Alun tapping away on the keys of Joe’s lap-top and pausing every now and again to guffaw with delight was beginning to irritate Andy and Joe.
But it was only when he started talking to himself, gurgling with glee and emitting his unmistakable nicotine-stained Muttley chortle that eyebrows began to be raised.
“...Advised for creating an increase in emotional well-being – the production of ‘happy hormones’-stroke-endorphins, good cardiovascular exercise...48% of men and women over 60...some form...once a month...”
Joe rolled his eyes and slapped his script down on the floor. “That’s it,” he sighed, “I give in. Dad, will you please shut up?”
“I’m studying!” Alun retorted, giving Andy a mischievous wink.
“Can’t you do it quietly?” Joe exclaimed, bounding up off the sofa and dislodging a sleeping Sam, who fell to the laminated floor with a baffled thump. “What are you studying anyway, O Male Parental Unit of Mine?” he continued, going to lean against the side of the sofa where his father was sitting and peering over his shoulder at the lap-top screen.
Alun adjusted his glasses and sat back a little. “Well, Fruit Of My Loins, I am attempting to find statistical information to prove to you that my continuing to partake of the pleasures of the flesh in my advancing years is actually beneficial to me and my general overall health and well-being, and not just something gross and disgusting that I should be abandoning in favour of Kellogg’s All-Bran and macramé.”
Joe pulled a face, opening his eyes wide in mock horror. “Eww! You’re talking about wrinkly sex again, aren’t you! It’s disgusting! And all in front of the dog, too – poor Sam will be traumatised!” He gestured dramatically at the dog now sitting at his feet, who merely stared up at him, tongue lolling and brown eyes full of adoration. “Have you no shame? Have you any idea of just how much it’s going to cost to put that poor creature through therapy after this –?”
Sam yawned, clearly unimpressed by his young master’s concern for his moral well-being, and emitted a somewhat loud and smelly fart.
“Shaddup,” retorted Alun, swatting Joe on the arse as he giggled and then ambled cheerfully out of the room, announcing that he was off to join Dan at band rehearsals. “Oh ‘e’ll love that,” Alun shouted after him, giving Andy another wink. “Promise me you won’t sing, whatever you do – Dan says they had complaints from the RSPCA the last time because you sounded like a cat with its tail caught in a mangle.” Andy stifled a laugh as Alun continued in an exaggerated stage-whisper: “Sam’s howling sounds positively operatic compared to Joe’s singing – he’s even had his own video on YouTube!”
Joe poked his head back round the door. “Daad!”
“What?”
“Haven’t got any money. And I’m still hungry. Can you lend me a tenner so I can stop off at Burger King on the way?”
Alun raised his eyebrows and pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head. “You’re nearly 30 years old and you’re in a successful TV series and you’re still scrounging cash off your old man? When I was your age – ” he tutted.
Joe sniggered, and adopted a broad Yorkshire accent. “Yeah, I know...you worked 20 hours a day down t’mill for tuppence a month!”
Hiding behind his book, Andy bit his lip and tried not to laugh as Alun made a great show of locating his wallet and handing a ten pound note over to his son, continuing to banter affably with Joe until both of the older men were shouting farewells at the closing front door.
* * * * * * * * *
“So what are you researching, then?” Andy enquired, closing his book on his lap as Sam snuffled back to the settee and settled himself across Andy’s legs, with a contented grunt.
“I told you! Well, I told Joe, anyway.”
“No, but seriously...”
“I was being serious; I’m researching the changes in sexual function for men in later life.”
Andy stared at him. “Why?”
Alun balanced his glasses on the end of his nose and peered at Andy over them like a disappointed school-master. Andy immediately wished that he wouldn’t, as it served only to emphasise Alun’s expressive blue eyes and the hint of mischief in his face. “Oh Andy!” he sighed, shaking his head. “Why do you think?”
Andy narrowed his eyes and gave Alun a mock-stern look, having noted the treacherous wobble of the older man’s lips which betrayed a desire to laugh. “I’ve no idea, but I’m sure it’s bound to be something we can sort out. So go on, then. Why are you researching – er – sexual function changes in – um – older men? You’re not exactly old, either, by the way; 60’s the new 50, and all that... Um... Oh for fuck’s sake, Alun,” he snapped testily as his partner continued to peer owlishly at him. “I’m not a fucking mind-reader!”
Alun slapped down the lid of the lap-top and sighed. “Well, I suppose I do wonder sometimes if this is all a mistake. I mean, you’re still in your prime – a bit of prime British beef...if you’ll pardon the comparison, as a veggie. Me? I’m more like a bit of scrag end now.”
“Rubbish!” grinned Andy, easing out from beneath a snoring Sam and settling down beside Alun on the smaller sofa. “What’s brought all this on?” he asked gently, sliding his arm around Alun’s broad shoulders and resting his chin on the top of his arm. “You sounded really chirpy earlier.”
Alun grinned back, his laughter lines crinkling up in the way Andy loved. “Oh, you know how it is; performance anxiety, wondering if I can keep up with you, all that palaver. Still –” he slid his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. “I found all this stuff on the internet about studies and statistics and it’s very reassuring! I mean, look at this!” He lifted the lid of the lap-top and jabbed a long finger at the screen. “The older man will take longer to achieve an erection –”
Andy raised an amused eyebrow. “I hadn’t noticed...”
“...But he gains more control over ejaculation – ‘though flow is reduced’,” he added, reading from the screen. “’There is an increased refractory period before a second erection is possible’ – but then that means more opportunity for –” He coughed theatrically behind a curled fist. “– Other pleasurable acts.”
“Yeah – like we do now!” Andy grinned. He squeezed Alun’s shoulders gently. “You’re not having a crisis of confidence, are you? I love you for everything you are, and you’re still a very sexy man, Alun. Joe was only pissing about with that ‘wrinkly sex’ stuff – nothing fazes him.” Andy tapped the lap-top screen. “I mean, look at that. ‘75% of sexually active older respondents said that their sex lives today are as emotionally satisfying or even more satisfying, than they were when they were in their 40s’.” He gave Alun another squeeze. “Would you agree with that?”
“Oh yeah,” Alun laughed. “I’ll say. And look at this – ‘61% of men over 60 are sexually active, 61% say sex is better or at least equally as physically satisfying as it was at 40’ – Christ, I’ll say so. ‘76% say sex is equally as emotionally satisfying as it was at 40, 72% say sex is important to a relationship’ – and damn it all, but I’d agree with that. I mean, they say that as you get older, a sexual relationship needs work and thinking outside the box, but I don’t think that’s just for older people.” He took off his glasses, putting them into their case – then turned and brushed a brief kiss across Andy’s forehead before closing the lap-top and placing it on the floor. “And you do make it the job a lot less difficult than it might be.”
“Charmer,” chuckled Andy, as he pulled Alun closer. “Your age doesn’t matter to me. We can always find ways to please each other. Sex is all about creating mutual erotic pleasure – and that means it doesn’t always have to be about having a shag!”
There was that Muttley chuckle again. “Christ, what a romantic you are! So you do find the wrinkles a turn-on, then?”
Andy kissed him. “What wrinkles? You’re a hill-walker, so you’re in fucking good shape, you – and you’ve got an arse men half your age would envy.”
“Think so?” Alun mused, mouth finding its way back to Andy’s for a warm, deep kiss.
“Very pert and peachy,” Andy growled approvingly, looking up at Alun from beneath his eyelashes. “I love digging my fingers into it when I’m giving you a blow job.”
“Thank you. Because you know, I’ve got someone to keep myself in shape for now. And apparently,” Alun added, before kissing Andy thoroughly, “the recipe for staying youthful and healthy is sex – and lots of it. So what do you reckon?”
Andy stopped kissing his way down Alun’s cheek and stared at him. “Just a minute. Were you really doing research, or were you just trying to get me into bed?”
Alun assumed an air of injured innocence. “Would I?”
“Yes, you bloody well would, you crafty bastard!”
Alun pulled back his shirt sleeve and looked down at his watch. “The lads aren’t likely to be back for hours, yet. Fancy a bit of a therapeutic workout? Nothing too strenuous, mind, but...”
Andy roared with laughter. “You really are a craft old bugger, aren’t you! Come on then, granddad. Want me to help you up the stairs, or –”
“Who said anything about going upstairs?” Alun retorted with a lascivious wink. “Plenty of time for ‘upstairs’. How about starting here on the settee? Go on – you know you like doing it on the settee!”
“That’s something else about being an older man,” Andy observed as he slipped off his t-shirt and began unfastening his jeans.
Alun ran his hands over Andy’s muscled torso, already awed by the beauty of his lover’s body. “What?”
“There’s no bloody arguing with you – you’ve got an answer for everything. It’s all that experience!”
Alun grinned smugly and pulled Andy down into his arms. “Then come ‘ere and get the benefit of it, lad – there’s no time like the present!”
* * * * * * * * *