Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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Stroke to His Cox
I TOOK a moment just to savour the feeling. Bloody hell,
who d have thought it? Me, skinny little Dave Tanaka from
the Isle of Wight, whose crowning physical achievement was
when I finally reached five foot five. Yet here I was, with
eight yeah, eight strapping lads hanging on my every
word. Legs like Doric columns, chests like slabs of granite; if
we were standing up, they d be towering over me like those
bastards who always think it s funny to rest their pints on
my head at the pub.
Not these boys, though. They were waiting, muscles
bunched, for my command. Sixteen eyes locked on my face,
and it wasn t so they could think up new variations on
nancy-boy, runt, and squirt. And Chinky, obviously.
Nope, my lads were sitting there at frontstops,
practically quivering as they waited for me to give the order.
God, I loved it. I drew it out as long as I could, and then I
gave them what they d been waiting for.
 Draw.
Limbs burst into action, arms pumping, legs thrusting.
They looked bloody gorgeous, moving as one man. A waft of
adrenaline and testosterone hit me in the face as we powered
through the water like a& .
Well. Various penis metaphors spring to mind. I m sure
you get the drift.
 Wind for five, stride for five, and then lengthen for five.
The wires of the rudder thrumming between my fingers, I
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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had one eye on our heading and the other constantly
scanning the crew, watching for signs of weakness or bad
timing. My gaze kept returning to Archie, though, and not
just because he was the one sitting right in front of me,
rowing stroke. His face was tense with concentration, and
his eyes were still locked on me as those massive arms
pulled on the oar again and again. Blond hair blown back by
the wind during the recovery flopped over his eyes as his legs
powered him backward on the drive. I felt a tug in the pit of
my stomach as the boat surged forward and then it began
again. Catch drive recovery. Catch drive recovery. Does
he dream about this? I wondered.
I do.
I used to wank off thinking about this, about Archie
rowing stroke, gazing back at me like I m some sort of god. I
used to, until the day we were out on the river and I realized
I was getting a hard-on. I nearly dove into the water out of
sheer bloody embarrassment. I mean, it s not like I hid the
fact I was a poof, but I made sure I didn t rub it in their
faces.
God, I wanted to rub it in Archie s face.
Bugger. I was getting hard again. I looked away from
him, deliberately focusing on the other lads in turn. They
were doing well the crew had been together nearly six
months now. We d narrowly missed winning our oars at the
Lent Bumps and were determined to make good at the Mays
next week. Time to get them going. I waited for the catch.
 Next stroke. I could sense Archie preparing himself to
follow orders.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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At the following catch, I gave them the instruction.
 Wind it up to race pace over five. It s a bit like being in the
army. I m the captain, and Archie s my sergeant major. I tell
them what to do, but it s up to stroke to set the pace.  One
hundred percent pressure, lads. Keep it up.
Hanging on my every word, they were. God, I love this
sport.
AFTER training had finished, the shell had been hung up,
and the oars put back in their racks, I was about to get on
my bike when Archie s voice cut through the chatter.  Lads?
Lads! We should go out for a meal, end of next week.
Whatever happens in the Bumps.
 Yeah? Rob piped up.  Fancy a Chinky, do you?
I tensed. Archie must have caught it.  Oh, for God s
sake, Rob, is  Chinese restaurant too difficult for your
Neanderthal brain to remember?
Rob gave me a shifty look.  Sorry, mate.
Phil frowned.  Hang on, though, I thought you were a
Jap anyway?
 I m British, you moron. Born and bred on the Isle of
bloody Wight. But yeah, my dad s from Japan, as it
happens. And don t think that was a picnic; whoever said
we live in a multicultural society clearly hasn t taken a trip
on the Isle of Wight ferry. Fifteen hundred kids at my
secondary school, and fourteen hundred and ninety-nine of
them were as white as the proverbial driven snow. Which, by
the way, we didn t see a right lot of, living so far south. The
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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highlight of my childhood was visiting my grandparents in
Sapporo and finally getting to go sledding.
It did have one good point, though; what with angsting
about being foreign-looking, angsting about being the music
teacher s kid, followed by angsting about being a short-arse,
by the time I d worked out I was gay I just thought Oh, what
the hell, bring it on!
 The point is, Archie was explaining patiently to Rob
and Phil,  a racist remark is a racist remark, you know what
I mean?
I didn t hold out a lot of hope. Not their fault; they re
geographers. Archie s an engineer, but he s all right really.
 Yeah, Phil said, apparently deciding he was on the side
of the angels.  You wouldn t go on about Pakis to Tariq,
would you?
Rob grinned.  That s  cos his lot might launch a bloody
fatwa 
 Don t worry, Rob, Tariq put in from behind Rob, who
jumped a mile, then tried to look like he d known Tariq was
there all along.  The Koran teaches us to be charitable
toward those of limited intellect.
 Oh yeah? Lend us a tenner, then!
 Lads! I think we re getting a bit off topic here, Archie
interrupted.
Rob turned back in my direction.  Um. Yeah. Sorry,
Dave.
 Yeah, and about the Jap bit, Phil added.
 It s all right, I said magnanimously. See, they re good
lads, really. They just don t think, sometimes.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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The mystery of how they got into Cambridge is beyond
me, I can tell you.
LAST day of the Bumps, we were all tense. We d bumped the
first day and overbumped the second, leading the lads to pile
the boat up with so much bloody greenery in celebration I
was amazed we didn t capsize. Then Clare had held us to a
rowover by half a length on the third. We were all desperate
to make it up on the final day and win our oars (well, rudder
in my case), and the nerves were starting to show. For the
third-year lads, it was their last chance before they left
college for good.
Everyone gets confused by the Bumps at first, but
they re a lot simpler than they look. All the crews line up
down the river about a length and a half apart and in order
of ranking. That was determined at last year's races. When
the starting cannon sounds everyone sets off together and
rows like buggery to catch up to the boat in front. That s a
bump. You don t actually bump, of course least, not if you
can avoid it that d be dangerous, and probably expensive.
All you have to do is overlap, and then the cox of the boat in
front concedes the bump by raising a hand. Both crews pull
over to the side, out of the race. Next day (there are four days
of bumps) the crews swap places, both physically and in the
rankings. Simple, right?
Now, if you were paying attention there, you ll be
wondering what happens to the boat behind the crew that
have just got their bump. Basically, it s just bad luck all
they can do is just keep going, stay ahead of the crew
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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behind, and get a rowover. Or, if they re lucky and the crew
three in front are total losers, they might just catch up with
them and get an overbump. I know it doesn t sound likely,
but trust me, it happens.
Phil was a third year, and he dealt with nerves by
sniping at everyone else.  You should wear shorts, Dave. Cut
down on the weight, he told me, looking down at my jogging
bottoms as if he d like to throw them in the Cam.
I just shrugged it off. I get as tense as the next bloke,
but I work a bit harder to hide it.  Like I m getting my
matchstick legs out next to your bloody tree trunks. You ll
just have to put a bit more effort into it, won t you?
 Come on, Phil, he s already the lightest male cox on the
river. Give him a break, Archie defended me.
Phil mumbled something that sounded like  Whatever.
 I think I m going to throw up, Rob added helpfully.
 Well, for goodness sake do it now, and not when we re
out on the water, Tariq said, edging away from him. Tariq
sits in front of Rob when we row, so I could see his point.
Rob dashed behind the boathouse.
We all shifted about looking embarrassed until Rob
came back, wiping his mouth.  There you go, Phil, he called
out cheerfully.  That s lightened the load a bit.
WE ROWED out to our allotted starting position, halfway
down from Bait s Bite Lock.  Right, lads, I said.  This time
we re having them. We ve got everything to row for today, and
we re bloody well going to get our oars. I know you can do it,
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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and so do you, so let s show those Clare bastards what s
what.
 He may have the body of a weak and feeble woman 
Tariq broke off as Archie turned round and threatened to
thump him.  Sorry. How about this, then? Once more unto
the breach, dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with
our English dead!
Bloody arts students.
At the four minute gun, we were wound up tight and in
perfect position, blades squared and buried, raring to go. At
the one minute gun, we were all over the bloody shop, the
bow end having drifted out across the river. I managed not to
swear at the lads as we got back in line with seconds to
spare.
When the final gun went, we got off smoothly, thank
God. The tense buzz of sound became a roar as the air filled
with the shouts of encouragement from the towpath.  Wind
for five, stride for five, and then lengthen for five. Race pace
over five, I shouted to be heard over the screams of the
crowd and the slide of the seats. Clare had a good start too,
but I reckoned we were gaining on them slowly. They weren t
up for their oars like we were, so they didn t have the
motivation. Coming down the Gut, I was certain we were
closing on them. Trouble was, ahead of Clare, Tit Hall
seemed to be going backward. If Clare bumped before we did,
we d have to chase Pembroke for the overbump, and though I
love my lads dearly, even I couldn t kid myself that was
likely. But if we kept it up the way we were going, we d get
our bump before Clare knew what was happening.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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Then disaster.  Course, we didn t know what had
happened then, but up ahead, on Grassy Corner,
Pembroke s rudder broke. Steaming ahead at race pace, they
ploughed straight into Jesus, who d bumped Corpus Christi
and were at the bank. Spectators scattered as the Jesus
stern pair panicked and leapt onto the bank for safety. Tit
Hall lived up their name and slowed down to have a gawp
instead of speeding up for a gift of a bump, and Clare were
almost upon them. Just in time, though, Tit Hall got their
act together and pulled away again.
I could feel the adrenaline flooding my system as we
came into Ditton Corner to the rhythmic splash of oars in
water. I pulled on the rudder wires with a surgeon s touch,
and as we straightened up, we were half a length up on
Clare.  Firm pressure, lads. Keep it up! I yelled. Sweat was
running down Archie s face as he grimaced with the effort,
and damp patches were forming on his shirt. We were
gaining on them!
We went into Grassy Corner only half a length behind
them. Clare knew we were coming and lost their rhythm, and
when we came out of the turn there was only a quarter
length of clear water between us. But Tit Hall were flagging
fast, and it was anyone s guess who d catch who first. It was
now or never. We had to give it all we d got.  Wind it up,
lads! I yelled.  Come on, now! Come on! I could see the
veins standing out on Archie s arms as he put his bloody
soul into that oar, and the others followed his lead, bless
 em. And with a final surge, we closed it up. As the Clare cox
raised a dispirited hand, I punched the air, my ears ringing
with the shouts from the towpath. We d done it! We d got our
oars!
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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I can t remember what I said to the lads. Probably swore
undying love to each and every one of them. Good thing they
were all too bloody knackered to listen. As we pulled slowly
into the bank, I grinned into Archie s face. His hair was
sticking to his forehead and had turned a couple of shades
darker from the sweat.  We did it, I said. He didn t say
anything, just grinned back at me.
One of the towpath crew handed me half a shrubbery
and the college flag so we could row back to the boathouse in
style. It s not small, that flag. It was all I could do to keep it
out of the water without steering us into the bank.
 Are you holding that flag, or is it holding you? Phil
asked, between panting breaths, all smiles now we d
bumped.
 Neither. It s a mutual support group. I couldn t stop
grinning at him either. Even if he is a bit of a tosser
sometimes.
ONE of the lads had stashed a bottle of champagne in the
boathouse tempting fate if you ask me; I was bloody glad I
hadn t known about it before the race. It was the real thing
too, the posy git. Still, it tasted pretty good, even when drunk
from a bottle passed around by eight sweaty giants. Actually,
make that especially when drunk from a bottle passed
around by eight sweaty giants. I guzzled as much as I could
get away with, steeling myself for what was coming and idly
wondering how far I d get if I tried to make a break for it.
I wouldn t have, anyway. Sometimes you ve just got to
take one for the team. So I stood my ground while Phil and
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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Rob rushed me and picked me up like a sack of flour. Oh, all
right. More like a bag of sugar. And then I made sure I took a
deep breath just before they swung me up between them and
pitched me into the river.
Well. It is tradition.
Would have been a lot more fun on a warmer day,
though, I thought as I surfaced, shivering, and half-swam,
half-waded back to the bank, my clothes all sticking to me.
 Bastards, I told them, grinning.
Rob grinned back.  Thought you enjoyed a bit of man-
handling!
 No offence, Rob, but if you were the last man on Earth,
I still wouldn t choose you to do the handling! My hair was
dripping manky river water down my face, so I wiped it off as
best I could with my sopping wet sleeve.
I hung around afterward while the rest of the lads
buggered off. They all seemed a bit keen to get away and
carry on celebrating, but I was hoping I might dry out a bit
before I had to cycle back to college. It got a bit boring,
though. Anticlimactic. I was just about to get on my bike
when Archie showed up again.  I thought you d gone back to
college, I said, feeling a little flutter in my stomach. It d
never been just me and him before, without any of the other
lads. I wondered if I could pluck up the nerve to say
something to him.
 Oh, I was commiserating with a friend from Churchill.
He frowned.  Dave? Why haven t you got changed?
I shrugged wetly.  Didn t bring a change of clothes. I
didn t want to jinx it. The cox only gets chucked in if you
win the race, you see.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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 You idiot! Look, you re shivering. He stripped off his
sweatshirt and held it out to me.
Well, they say it s the thought that counts. And the
thought of me cycling  round Cambridge dressed in a bloody
marquee was not an attractive one.  If I put that on, the
sleeves ll be dragging on the ground!
Archie smiled.  You can wear my shirt, then. Sorry it s a
bit sweaty, but it s all I ve got. My breath hitched as he
stripped it off, and suddenly I was nose-to-nipple with
Archie s bare, beautiful chest. I could feel the warmth
coming off it in waves, and the rich smell of him was going
right where it counted.  Come on, then, get your shirt off!
Archie s voice made me jerk my gaze away from the golden
hair dusting his pecs, although my eyes kept trying to sneak
back whenever my attention wavered.
 What, out here, where anyone could see me? Not
bloody likely!
Archie laughed.  You re not serious! Why on earth not?
Because next to you I ll look like a pigeon-chested little
girly-boy and if I m very, very lucky I ll die of shame before
anyone sees me and laughs.  I m shy, all right?
 Well, come back in the boathouse, then. He opened
the door. I followed him in nervously and shut it behind me.
There wasn t much light inside, which was good. Maybe he
wouldn t be able to see how scrawny I was with my kit off.
Reluctantly I peeled off my sopping wet T-shirt. I was so
bloody cold I couldn t tell which were my nipples and which
were goosebumps.  That s better, Archie said softly and
passed me his shirt.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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The scent of him as I got it over my head was almost
overpowering. Strong, warm sweat filled my nostrils with its
heady odor, and the material felt burning hot on my frozen
skin. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself and hold in
the warmth and the scent, but I forced myself not to be so
bloody daft. I couldn t stop the effect it had on other
appendages, though.
Archie was smiling.  I think you d better tuck it in. It
looks like you re wearing a dress!
 It s fine, I told him, my voice sounding just a little
hoarse. I was counting on that extra layer of loose-fitting
fabric to hide the effect he was having on me I mean, he
was standing there with his shirt still off, for God s sake.
 No, it s not. To my abject, cringing horror he stepped
closer and started tucking the shirt into my jogging bottoms.
 Stop it! I was flapping like a bloody chicken at his
hands, trying to bat them away, when it happened. One of
his hands moved round to the front of my waistband and
dipped inside with a handful of shirt.
Where it met with more than a handful of achingly hard
cock.
Shit. I braced myself. Would he laugh it off, or flatten
me?
He did neither. He let go of the shirt and grabbed hold of
my cock instead. I was still chilled by my wet trousers, and
his hand felt incredibly hot and big. Calluses from rowing
rasped against my skin like sandpaper.
It was heaven.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
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I don t think I even made a sound before he grabbed me
with his other arm and crushed my face into his chest, the
hair tickling my nose. I think I moaned, then, but it came
out a bit muffled. All the time he was working my cock, the
heat and friction in that one part an incredible contrast to
the way the rest of me felt from the waist down. Was this
really happening? Maybe I d hit my head on a submerged
shopping trolley in the Cam and was lying in hospital
dreaming all this?
I was pleased to find my subconscious had provided
dream-Archie with a massive erection which was trying to
drill its way through my solar plexus. Not surprised, though.
He was always well hung in my dreams.
 God, I ve wanted to do this for so bloody long! Archie
gasped.
 You have? I asked, surprised he was still sticking to
the dream-script.
 Come on, Dave, you must have noticed. I can t keep my
bloody eyes off you when we re in that boat.
 Neither can any of the other lads, but I haven t noticed
them lining up to rip my kit off. I m the cox. You re supposed
to watch me.
 None of them watch you like I do, he said softly into
my hair.  None of them have to spend half their time rowing
with a hard-on.
My cock twitched in his hand at the image.  I dream
about you, I confessed, then cringed because it sounded so
bloody girly.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
15
 Oh, yes? Archie backed off a bit, but only so he could
lean down and kiss me. The height differential was going to
be a bugger, I could tell. His lips were firm and slightly
chapped, and his tongue plunged into my mouth like a boat
entering the water.  What happens in these dreams of yours,
then? Anything like this?
And suddenly he was on his knees in front of me, and I
felt like I was ten feet tall. He reached up to pull down my
sodden jogging bottoms and my equally wet briefs, and as I
held the too-long T-shirt up and out of the way, my cock
sprang free to bob gently in front of his chin.
Archie looked up at me with mischief in his eyes.  Want
to tell me what to do?
My mouth went suddenly dry.  L-lick it, I said thickly.
Archie s always been good at following my orders. His
tongue poked out and licked a stripe up the underside of my
cock, then swirled around the head for a moment before
going back to repeat the process. It felt like heaven, but God,
it was torturously slow.
 Wind it up for five, I told him, and the pace increased.
God, that was good.  Firm pressure. Archie wrapped his
hands round the backs of my thighs for better purchase.
Right at the top, his fingertips were teasing my crack. He
started applying a bit more force with his tongue, making my
cock bob with his stroke and pressing the tip of his tongue
into my slit.
 Fuck, yeah! I gasped.
Archie pulled away from my cock, his lips shiny with
spit and pre-come and his eyes bright with mischief.  I don t
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
16
remember you saying that out on the river. He grinned and
scrambled to his feet.  Stay there for a mo.
To be honest I felt a bit daft, standing there in the half-
dark with my soggy trousers  round my ankles, so I kicked
them off and just stood there in Archie s college rowing top.
He was digging around inside a backpack.  Got them! He
held up a condom packet and a tube of lube, grinning.
 You take those everywhere you go? I asked, starting to
wonder if Archie was a total slut and I d been too blinded by
his god-like proportions to notice.
He might have blushed, though it was hard to tell in the
dim light.  Only if you re going to be there too.
I stared.  You were after me? I didn t add the  Why?
but it sort of hung in the air between us. I mean, I m not
Quasimodo, but I m hardly cover-boy material.
 What? You re you re beautiful, Archie told me, like it
was the most obvious thing in the world.  I mean, there s
just something about you. Your hair, the shape of your face,
the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh 
I had sparkly eyes? I always thought they were a sort of
muddy brown. Still, gift horses, mouths don t look.
  and your skin, the way it s so pale and perfect& .
 If you tell me I look like a china doll, there s going to be
an oar shoved somewhere you won t like, I muttered half-
heartedly.
Archie laughed as he came back to join me.  Can I say
Snow White?
 Not if you want to live, no.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
17
He laughed again, putting his arms around my waist.
It s a right pain being five foot five. People never take my
death threats seriously. Of course, the fact I said it in
between tip-toed kisses to his neck might have had
something to do with it too.
Archie pulled away from me. He laid the sweatshirt on
the ground like a blanket, yanked off his shorts and
jockstrap, and sat down.  Come here.
I went. He d stretched his legs out and I straddled him,
my arms around his neck and my knees either side of his
hips. Our hard cocks brushed together, then pressed against
one another as we kissed. Sensation spread outward from
my groin, warming me. It was everything I d ever dreamed of
and more. I didn t even mind that he was bound to want to
top when you re five foot five, everyone and his bloody dog
wants to top you. Well, maybe not the dog. But with Archie, I
wouldn t mind bottoming.  You sure you want to& here? I
asked.  Where anyone could come in?
 Oh, yes.
My cock twitched up from hard to oh-my-God-let-me-
fuck-you-now. Archie lay back on the ground, that beautiful
body of his all laid out for me. I felt like I did the first time I
had dinner in Formal Hall: wondering what on earth I d done
so bloody right to end up there and wishing I had a clue
which knives and forks to use first.
Figuratively speaking, obviously. I d never heard of
anyone using forks for sex, and knives were a bit kinkier
than I really wanted to go. Although to be honest, right now
Archie could probably persuade me into pretty much
anything. Especially when he told me to get off him for a
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
18
minute, then hooked his hands under his knees and pulled
his legs up and back, displaying that gorgeous arse to me.
It was like the crew getting their oars and being made
Head of the River all at the same time.  You re serious,
right? I asked.  You want me to top?
 That s okay, isn t it? Archie s face looked suddenly
worried in the gloom.  I mean, I thought 
 You thought right, I said, running my hands up those
gorgeous, rock-hard thighs. The T-shirt was getting in the
way, so I pulled it off, another heady waft of Archie s scent
hitting me as I yanked it over my head. The ground was cold
and hard under my knees, but I didn t give a toss as I
shuffled back a bit so I could push my face into his groin.
The smell of him there was thick well, he had just been
racing and I breathed it in like it was pure oxygen, nuzzling
into his bollocks and flicking my tongue out for a taste. It
was equal parts musk, earth, and salt. I couldn t believe I
was finally getting to do what I d been dreaming about for so
long. I fumbled for the condom, ripping open the packet with
slightly shaky fingers. Best get it on before I completely lost
all capacity for rational thought. Then I grabbed the lube.
I drizzled lube generously down Archie s crack and then
started to massage it well in with my fingers.  That okay? I
breathed.
 God, yes.
I wanted to take my time preparing him, but it wasn t
easy with him gasping and going on at me about how he was
ready, fuck, just do it now.  Hey who s in charge here? I
asked, giving a gentle slap to his arse with the hand that
didn t currently have three fingers shoved up inside him.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
19
 You are, he said, laughing a bit.  God, that s good.
 Ready to wind up the pace, then? I said finally, when I
reckoned neither of us could take it any longer.
 Ready, he said, and I launched myself into him.
Archie s body opened up to accept me like the waters of the
Cam parting before our bows. I drove forward, barely keeping
myself under control.
 Oh, fuck, yeah, I breathed.  You all right, Arch?
 Nngh, he said, wrapping his legs around my waist.
 God, yes, he added a bit more intelligibly.  How about we
move to race pace?
I slapped him again, and he grinned.  I m the one who
gives the orders around here, and don t you forget it. I
wound it up, though, keeping an eye on the angle precision
of a surgeon, remember? Archie was duly appreciative,
moaning and swearing as I thrust into him deeper and
deeper and with ever-increasing pace. But I was getting
close, and, heh, I always like my lads to finish first.  How
about, I said between thrusts,  applying... a bit of firm
pressure... yourself.
Archie got the hint, and shoved his hand in between us
to grab his cock. We were both only a couple of lengths from
the finish line Archie gave three or four pulls to his cock
with a large, callused hand and that was all it took. Come
spurted up between us as I felt his hole clench around me.
 Fuck! I shouted, and shot my load deep inside him.
Getting our oars had been pretty good. But coming
inside Archie s gorgeous, tight arse? Fucking priceless.
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
20
THE trouble with boathouse sex is that once the heat of the
moment s dissipated, you realize you re lying naked on a
cold, damp dirt floor, and suddenly sticking around for
cuddles afterwards doesn t seem very attractive. We
staggered to our feet a bit awkwardly, bits of us that hadn t
been stiff before having decided to get in on the act. I pulled
off the condom and chucked it in a dark corner, feeling a bit
bad about littering the place but fairly certain no one would
ever even see it.
Archie s sweatshirt, which he d been lying on, was in a
right state by this time, but he still put it on over his bare
chest and tossed me his T-shirt. I put it back on gratefully.
Unless I wanted to cycle back to college looking like I was
wearing a dress, though, there was nothing for it but to
climb into my cold, soggy jogging bottoms. Tucking the shirt
in helped a little I no longer looked like I was wearing a
dress. I just looked like I was wearing a big girl s blouse.
As I pushed my reluctant feet into squelching trainers,
Archie grabbed me by the waist from behind and kissed me
sloppily on the ear.  I m looking forward to getting you out of
those wet clothes again.
 S pose you think this means I m your boyfriend, then?
I said, as off-hand as I could manage.
 Yep, he said with a grin I could feel against the back of
my neck.  From now on, I m the only one who gets to be the
stroke to your cox.
 What are we going to tell the lads tonight, then? I
asked.  I mean, we re supposed to be going out for a meal.
Do you mind them knowing we re, well, you know?
Stroke to His Cox | JL Merrow
21
Archie didn t answer for a moment, so I guessed he
wasn t ready to come out to the lads yet. It was
disappointing, but I could live with it. Then he surprised me.
 It might be a bit late to worry about that.
 What, you mean they know already? How? I looked
around suspiciously. If the lads had been hanging around
spying on us, they d be looking at the surface of the Cam
from the other side when I got hold of them.
 Well, I might have sort of said something to them. A
couple of weeks ago, actually. Archie grinned again.  Why
the hell do you think they were all so keen to get out of
here?
 Are you telling me you planned this all out, even down
to making sure everyone pissed off and left us to it? A
thought struck me.  What would you have done if we hadn t
bumped today?
 We d have just had to console each other, wouldn t we?
But I always knew we d get our oars. He kissed me again
and gave a teasing lick down the side of my neck.  You re the
sort of bloke who always comes out on top.
About the Author
JL MERROW is that rare beast, an English person who
refuses to drink tea. She read natural sciences at
Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst
which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab
again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of
punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.
When not writing she enjoys reading, martial arts, and
surprising people who judge a book by its cover. Stories by
JL Merrow have been published by Dreamspinner Press,
Torquere Press, MLR Press, Reflection's Edge, and Ravenous
Romance.
Visit JL s web site at http://www.jlmerrow.com/ and blog at
http://jl-merrow.livejournal.com.
Another great romance by JL MERROW:
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Stroke to His Cox ©Copyright JL Merrow, 2011
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Anne Cain [e-mail]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite
244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
February 2011
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-790-0