An Irish experience

Ireland in the 1980’s was an unhappy land. The “troubles” in the north spread over the border into the republic, with some terror activities which made everyone nervous. It was also a time when Music started to boom in Ireland. The forerunners to the now more famous Irish singers and groups know instantly recognised world wide were making their marks, Hot House Flowers, Johnny Logan, Boomtown Rats, U2 and Clannad, were well known in the UK and parts of Europe before booming across the rest of the world.

In the summer of 1986, I was asked to go to Dublin to prepare a programme on the Irish music scene and to tour with one of the more peculiarly Irish music phenomena, The ‘showband’, for my Radio Station back in Switzerland RSI and for the French and German services, RSR and DRS. I was given ten days.

I was put in touch with my fellow broadcaster from RTE in Dublin, Bridin, who I knew fairly well from the annual get togethers we had in the European cross radio programme ‘Music without Frontiers’ and in turn she put me in touch with the manager of an Irish music agency.

After the exchange of a few letters and phone calls, he arranged for a young associate to meet me and show me around Dublin and some other towns in Ireland.

I suppose like many continental Europeans, I didn’t have much knowledge or interest in Ireland, and I as an interpreter and translator, my main job, knew nothing of the Celtic languages. At the conferences that I worked at interpreting, the was no call for the Irish language to be used, so I knew no one who spoke the language.

Monday 14th July 1986

On arrival in Dublin, I was amazed the amount of Dual language signage everywhere in English and Gaelic. I was greeted by a charming young man called Colm who was enthusiastic. He was also a charmer. I had arranged my own hotel and car hire for the stay and I had to follow Colm in his car to the hotel. I was surprised that the Irish drove on the same side of the road as the British, also that their coins were the same size and shape as the British. I wondered if the Irish had ever escaped the British influences since independence.

It was the next day that I started work with a meeting in the studio’s of RTE to talk to Bridin and her producers about the Irish music scene and to arrange for a link and studio so I could present my usual Radio show. It was there that I saw a technician that caught my eye, mostly because he was almost constantly looking at me, as I did my talks in Italian, German and French, but communicated with the RTE staff in English. I had a gut feeling about the guy but was unsure about approaching him.

I decided that I’d approach him about his work and what his role was. He was a sound man, actually something that we didn’t use in Switzerland, leaving that role to the producers, and I told him so.

He had a delightful Irish accent, so very different in tone and inflection to the British and as different as standard English sounds to broad Scottish or hard Welsh voices.

I tried hard to keep him talking and he seemed happy that I was giving him attention, trying hard to make my questions interesting for him. Then I asked about night life in Dublin, something that Colm had ignored, keeping his activities to daytime work, and disappearing at 5pm. My new friend was Noel.

The sound tech, seemed very happy to tell me about the best of Dublin night life and offered to take me to the best pubs, bars for the best ‘craich’, an Irish word for a good and fun time. I took Noel at his word and we met at my hotel not long after seven pm and I tried my first and only Glass of ‘Guinness’ stout. I think it was very obvious to Noel that I didn’t take to the black stuff.

We chatted and asked each other about life in both Dublin and the rest of Ireland and Switzerland, and we relaxed well with each other. Noel, at twenty-two or twenty-three was quite vocal about the role of the Catholic church in Ireland and the need for the Irish to break free of the shackles of the Roman church, especially on Divorce, Abortion, and Homosexuality. He told me that in almost every radio and TV programme there was a priest listening and watching to make sure the broadcasters didn’t stray over the designated lines. “It’s awful”, Noel told me, ‘It’s like the Fascists and Communists, but these are religious people”.

I asked if he would be prepared to talk on tape to me about the subject, and he agreed if I didn’t mention his name and disguised his voice. We agreed that I would record him in my hotel room, and we moved on to a decent restaurant and then a night club in Dublin what had one of the best ‘showbands” in Ireland on stage live. Noel even arranged for me to talk to their manager about the life in a showband. Noel was being far more useful to me than Colm.

After we had finished in the nightclub, we walked back to my hotel still talking and Noel asked me about the law of homosexuality in Switzerland. Our laws were very liberal compared to Irelands. “It’s so difficult being gay in this fucked up country”. Noel burst out in anger. “So many of my pals have moved to the US or the UK, because they cannot be themselves”.

“I hope you don’t mind me talking about this”. Noel was apologetic. I assured him that being a gay man myself, I didn’t mind at all in fact I found it very interesting.

He stopped in the middle of a very quiet main street. “You’re gay too”? I nodded. “I hoped when I saw you in the studio. You are a very attractive man”. I thanked him and told him that I thought so too, and that I had noticed him staring at me in the studio”.

He asked if I was ‘interested’. I gave him a smile and said that I thought so and if it was OK for him to come back to my room as a ‘guest’. He gave his consent and we picked up the pace and soon was back in my rooms.

After a quick kiss and an embrace, Noel told me that he didn’t have a condom. It was so difficult to get them in Ireland because of the ‘fucking priests’ and the Vatican’s ban on them and the ‘withdrawal method’ of contraception. This was bad news once again for the gay community with the recent onset of AIDS and HIV. Condom smuggling from the ‘North and England’ was the only way to get them, he told me. I was aghast, Even in Catholic Ticino where I lived, I could buy condoms. I assured him that penetrative sex was not a must for me, I was happy with just oral fun, and Noel relaxed.

“Please don’t get me wrong but, I’m not up for sex tonight, I’ve drunk too much but we can meet up tomorrow and discuss things then”. I assured him that I was happy, and told him that I was going to ask at RTE that he took over from the nearly useless Colm as my guide on the music scene and preparation of my programme on the Irish Music scene.

Noel seemed delighted at the prospect and we parted for the night and I sat down to write up a ton of notes ready for my now possible two or three programmes rather than just the one on music.

Tuesday 15th July 1986

The next morning, I made my way back to the RTE studios ready to exchange Colm for Noel. I was rather please that Colm seemed relieved not to have to look after me. I was rather shocked to be approached by a smiling priest who was friendly to begin with but gradually became stern with me, telling me what I could or couldn’t say whilst I was on air to Switzerland from Dublin. I told him that in Switzerland we didn’t have censorship and that we were a free nation totally based on democracy and acceptance of religious and linguistic differences and tolerance of minorities of whatever persuasion, freedom of expression, and that if he tried to censor me, I would broadcast the fact in four languages.

“We’ll see about that”. He told me angrily storming off.

The link was made with my home studio in Lugano via Bern, our headquarters. The programme was taped for editing back home into four distinct languages. I was determined to thwart the priest, sitting behind the glass partition with headphone’s on listening to every word. I knew that I had an advantage to start, and I first spoke in Swiss-German, and then in French reporting the censorship threat by the priest, and then I turned to Italian, which I suspected the priest understood, again reporting the threat. I could see his face turn to thunder, and I was about to repeat again in English when the “Red light” indicating that the studio was live went out changing to the yellow ‘Off Air’. I had no communication with my studio back home and I thundered out of the studio into the production suite remonstrating with the producer asking why I had been cut off.

The Irish producer was apologetic telling me there was nothing he could do.  I threatened the priest in the coarsest Italian I could thing of and asked to see the RTE management. There was going to be an almighty row if I had my way. There was no way an Irish priest could censor a Swiss broadcast.

It wasn’t long before a manager appeared and I again protested the censorship and I even went as high as to threaten a protest to the European Broadcasting Union, the highest level in Europe. This worked.

The manager told the priest to get out of the studio, and spoke to the Irish producer, and told him to re-establish the like to Bern and Lugano and apologised to me for the unfortunate slight and that the priest would be made to also apologise to me. In the corner, I could see Noel grinning all over his handsome face and giving me the thumbs up.

I went back into the studio and called Bern and Lugano and gave a description of what had happened and the threats I had made to RTE and that things seemed to have been smoothed over. For the next two and a half hours I recorded the intros to the music for that week for my regular programme without any interference. At the end the producer came back into the studio as I sipped on a well-earned coffee and again apologised to me on behalf of RTE. The priest never resurfaced and I never received the offered apology. I asked the producer and his staff how they could work under such interference.

“The church is too powerful and the politicians are in the pockets of the priests and bishops who are as stubborn as an Irish mule. It would have to be the people of Ireland to protest and to get attitudes changed. Ireland would always be as backward a nation as Spain, Portugal, Greece and Albania, whilst the church had so much influence on the nation”. I was told. I wondered if I could get the producer to talk on air.

That evening Noel took me to see another Showband, ‘Dickie Rock and the Miami’, and I interviewed the lead singer who it turned out had sung for Ireland in the 1967 Eurovision Song Contest in Vienna and had sung a few times in Switzerland, so I had plenty to talk about with him. He was typically charming as I found most Irish and I asked about interference from the church. He looked around the room before replying as if he was in Communist Eastern Europe looking for the state security police and gave me a not too friendly reply about them. I was happy.

Noel returned with me to the Hotel and helped me with the material I had collected with the showband. The next day we were to travel across the country to Limerick a city on the West coast. We sat down together is a fairly tight sofa, making it impossible not to touch each other. It wasn’t too long before we were kissing and getting really horny – Noel hornier than me. The guy wasn’t very muscular but again he wasn’t skinny either. His hair intrigued me being a light brown and almost a ginger colour and his skin was also light. He straddled my legs sitting facing me as he kissed and I stripped off his shirt, with him holding his arms up in the air. His skin was very white and looked as if he had never sat in the sun in his life. He wasn’t well developed at all, with no development on his chest and arms but there was an attraction to him looking a little vulnerable but showing no nerves.

He stripped off my shirt and gasped when he saw my tanned body and my musculature. “Are all Swiss like you”?

I told him that I was only half Swiss but we liked to exercise and that most Swiss town had two or three gymnasiums and at least one swimming pool and we enjoyed hill walking and, in the winter, skiing was a must so yes it was possible that we were a fit nation. He stroked my body enjoying my arms and chest and he whistled at my abs.

I grew tired of his weight on my legs and asked him to stand up and it was then I noticed the bulge in his trousers. The guy was built down below and excited. I wanted to see what he had hiding in there. He dropped off his trousers to reveal that he was wearing long baggy underwear almost down to his knees.

My face must have given away my surprise. “Yes, I know, it’s an Irish thing”, he said pronouncing the word as ‘ting’. “It’s that fucking church’. Again, he said ‘feckin’, instead of the English pronunciation. I like the accent. “Dey make us wear these ting’s when we’re kids and they also restrict the British style undies in der shops”. I couldn’t believe it.

“Let’s get der feckin tings off”. I said imitation his Irish brogue and making him laugh uproariously. And he dropped the offending under garments to show of a beautiful white circumcised thick cock just over, I’d say, eight inches. The skin was almost translucent and it was easy to see the bluish blood veins around the shaft. It would make a wonderful model for any anatomy student to look at the understand the circulation of blood inside the aroused cock. The cock was at an acute angle as if searching for a mouth or backside to invade, and the head was smooth and shiny but like the rest of his body a very light colour.

“Come on Mario, let me see what you have got”. He was smiling at me and stroking his cock in anticipation. I stood up, undid my belt and dropped my trousers. He was delighted by my jockstrap. “Holy mother”, Noel was shocked, “I’ve seen them in magazines but never for real”. He reached forward to feel the material which was so totally stretched at there was a two-centimetre gap at the top where my dick had pushed the material away from my lower abs. Noel then rubbed his finger under the elastic support bands each side of my buttocks and then grabbed at my firm flesh. “Marvellous”. He stuttered.

“Go on, get down on your knees and pull them off with your teeth”. I urged.

“Can I”?

“I’m now ordering you too, I want to watch you doing it and see how hard you try”.

He dropped to his knees rubbing his face across the material feeling the hardness inside.

“Fuck, you’re huge”. He admired.

“I’ve seen much bigger”.

“Really! I’ve not seen many cocks, yours might be the biggest I’ve ever seen. I’m so excited”.

“Get it off and find out”.

He pushed his nose against my trimmed pubic hair and tried to get his teeth to grip the thick elastic band of my jockstrap and tried hard to pull it down without any success. I felt my cock swell even more watching him try.

He gave it another go and failed again. I heard him groan with the failure.

“Try and grab more of the band and give that a go”.

He was good at taking advice, opening his mouth wide to take a large grip of the band and closing his jaw tighter he was able to pull the band and material away from my body and cock, loosing grip when the band fell back again exposing the top inch or so of my cock.

 

“Go on keep doing it”. He was now giggling as he again gripped the band being careful with his teeth on my cock, and was able to pull it down a couple more inches. Now he could see the thickness of my cock but most of it was still inside the pouch. Noel was now licking the exposed part of my cock but he still had a long way to go.

“Try pulling the back of the jock down”, I told him, “It would make life easier for you”. I also thought that he could like my backside at the same time but I didn’t tell him.

On his knees he crawled around behind me. Noel had learned the first lesson well taking a large mouthful of the rear band of my jock and pulling it down with an almighty tug, pulling the band right back below my glutes and crawling back to my front to continue work on the front of my cock.

The material was stull taut but this time he seemed to have learned to use his neck muscles to pull down the material and released my cock. It sprang upwards very fast almost hitting his eye and sliding up to his forehead.

“My god, Mario, dat is a monster you got der”. He stared in amazement at my cock as my foreskin unpeeled itself over the glans. “Dat’s a feckin beauty” he gasped. “Can I touch it”?

“It’s why I got it out for you”. He gently wrapped his shaking hand around my shaft as if it was a much-wanted birthday present he desired for years. “Oh my”. Was all he said. He pulled up his other hand and put it above the other totally covering the shaft and leaving the head exposed.

“I can’t get my fist closed around it, it’s so big”. He looked up into my eyes. “It’s honestly the biggest I’ve ever seen in my entire life”.

“Go on, you’ve sucked cocks before haven’t you”. He looked back down and opened his mouth wide and closed his eyes, and putting his lips over his teeth he managed to get the head in his mouth, moaning with pleasure as he savoured the fullness in his mouth and the taste of my cock swirling his tongue around the head giving me much pleasure.

Noel was experienced enough to know to breathe through his nostrils as he sucked. He was loving the thrill of the largest cock he’d ever had and not wanting to let it go from his mouth and grip. I told him to open his eyes and see what he was working on, and to remove his hands as well, and notice the length.

He did and his eyes bulged at the sight in front of him. He released my cock from his mouth and told me that he’d never be able to take all of it in his mouth or in his arse, if we were to fuck. I told him that he should visit places like Holland, Greece and Spain and they were the countries where I had seen the biggest cocks.

Noel was suddenly determined. “I was going to go to Britain to find cock but now I tink, I’ll go to Amsterdam, I hear it’s wild there and if you say they have bigger cocks that you’s, then dat were I’m going”.

“Come on less of the travel plans let me have a taste of your cock too”.

We got onto the bed and lay opposite each other in a sixty-nine of cock-sucking. I appreciated that he tried to get as much of my dick in his mouth before he coughed and spluttered and gagged on my cock.

“Don’t worry about it”, I told him and resumed sucking on his gorgeous white shaft. I was able to open my throat and take him all the way to the root and he loved it. I rolled onto my back with Noel on top of me. My purpose was to be able to get to see his hole and have a smell. Was it clean? What pleased me was even within his arse cheeks the skin was still a pure white and no residual brown stains and a lack of hair around the hole, it smelled clean and so I licked a couple of fingers and rubbed them over the hole which tightened at my touch and smelled the result. He was clean.

Holding onto his cheeks I pulled them apart, and he protested. “I thought we were not going to fuck. I’ll not fuck without a rubber”. I told him to relax, I was not going to fuck him and to just enjoy the sensation.

Gently I licked his hole and he gasped. “What yer doing”? he was almost shouting. I told him to get back down and suck on my cock and let me do what I was doing. He couldn’t leave it alone and as I licked his hole again, he asked again, what was I doing”. I told him that I was licking his hole”.

“It’s fecking marvellous! Keep doing it”. I asked if he’d had it done before. This was his first time. Inwardly I cursed the Irish Catholic church and government. How could a twenty-two- or twenty-three-year-old gay man not know about rimming?

“I’ve got to do to you, I must know what’s it’s like”. Noel was determined. Almost immediately my legs were spread wide open and I could feel his breath against my hole as he resisted for a few moments and to encourage him I gave his hole a huge sloppy wet lick and his resistance fell apart and I felt his tongue licking my hole.

For a first timer he was good, and after a few seconds he climbed off me and was on top facing me and kissing me like crazy.

“Dat is unforgettable”, he beamed at me. “Dat is something else I never dreamed of doing to another man- EVER and I don’t tink I EVER going to stop”.

“Come here man and sit down on my face, let me do you some more”. I told him. He was on my face in a couple of seconds and was soon massaging my tongue and face by moving his body backward and forward. I knew he was jacking off and told him to hold on and not to shoot. “But it feels so wonderful, almost as good as being fucked”. I almost ordered him to stop jacking.

“Payback time, You’ve got to return the favour”.

“You want to sit on my face”.

“Got it in one”. He was lying down in an instant and I was sitting on his face receiving a wonderful arse licking from him.

Within five minutes or less I had turned Noel from a virgin arse-licker to and ace and as he licked my hole he was jacking on his dick. He was so excited that he shot his load way too early, his load spraying over his pure white skin. “Fuck that was amazing – I’ve never been so excited ever”. I climbed off him and lay down next to him. His eyes shone at the new experience. “I can’t wait to try it with my pals.

I felt like joking with the guy. He was so cute and innocent. Sucking and fucking was the only gay experience he’s ever had. I’d introduced him and most probably half the gay population of Dublin to rimming via what I had just taught him.

“So you have friends here in Dublin, or are you planning on rimming the UK Gay population or the guys in the Thermos Sauna’s and Cockring Club in Amsterdam”.

“You’ve been to those places in Amsterdam? Is it true what they say”? I was half wishing that I could be there with Noel when he made his first visit to Amsterdam. I half thought of telling him that he’d have to get a tan first before he went there. He’d shine like a lighthouse in the dark rooms and corridors of the Thermos and Cockring,; he was so white.

“Yes it’s all true” and I described the layout of the two Thermos sauna’s with the swimming pool, dark rooms, gym, bar, café, and the bed’s in the private rooms and all the cruising and open sex, and the orgies that would go on all day and night except for the three hours when both were closed in the late morning.

I told him of the three floors of the Cockring Club, with the dance floor on the ground floor, and then the bar in the middle and the extra-large dark room above where guys could be naked and openly sucking, fucking, rimming and shooting all night.

Noel was hard again as I recounted some of my exploits in Amsterdam, slowly jacking on his cut cock, rubbing the excessive lube into his cockhead.

“I gotta go der”, he almost stuttered, “It has ter be a gay paradise for sure”.

Noel’s face was incredulous as I told him of the bars in Amsterdam, and also in Frankfurt, West Berlin, Paris, and Zurich, that I had visited at one time or another and the goings on. He dived down on my cock sucking on me as if he was blowing every customer in all the places I described and ferociously jacking on his cock in excitement.

“I’ve heard about dis but taut dey were all lies and fantasy”.

I assured him they were true.

He sat up and thought for a few moments. “D’ya know Mario, I’m now more than determined to get rid of dose fecking priests and der fecking interference in everyting, dey put der dirty fingers into with der feckin religion”.

I could see the steely determination in his eyes. “Der will be dose, who will still want the feckers, but dose of us who don’t; we’ll cut off der balls, dats for sure. Ireland will become a free and respected nation”.

I couldn’t do more than hope he was right. I hoped I could get Noel to repeat the words without the swearing on tape.

Wanting to lighten the room, I told him to get down and rim my hole and suck me off to a massive orgasm. “Do me Noel, do me so good that I’ll remember for the first time my first orgasm in Ireland”.

Within five minutes, he had brought me off to a great explosion of cum from my cock and Noel held my dick in his hand as I spat out my load all over my body. “Fuck you do shoot a big load der”. He told me. I then spent ten minutes introducing him to nip play which was new to him and which he loved as I sucked, licked, nibbled, chewed and pulled with my teeth, and pinched and twisted as he jacked on his alabaster blue veined cock to his second orgasm of the night.

“It’s like my whole body is alive and the sensation goes right to my balls. It’s marvellous. Are your tits the same”.

I assured him that my nips were the same and that he could try it out the next night when we would be across the country in the west in Limerick. We dried off and showered and slept together and woke up the next morning for a new adventure in un-liberated Ireland.