Date: Fri, 5 Dec 2008 15:44:12 -0800 (PST) From: Bill Subject: Boarding School Teacher 2 Boarding School Teacher -- Part 2 By Bill Time: January 1978 It was a cold clear Sunday afternoon in up-state New York, and the 60 boarding students enrolled at the Hardcrest School for Boys would soon be arriving back from their Christmas break. (Most of the boys who attended the private prep school were day students, and they wouldn't be showing up until Monday morning.) Mark was one of the two "hall masters" for the dormitory corridors, and he would be responsible for the younger boarding students -- 30 boys in the 7th, 8th, and 9th grades living in 15 dorm rooms. He stood in a corridor of the dormitory wing, fidgeting a bit, trying to restrain himself from pacing back and forth as erotic thoughts about boys bounced around in his brain. "You look a little nervous," said a voice from behind him, with a good-natured chuckle. Mark turned around, startled. A man in his late 20s or early 30s was walking toward him and reached out his hand. "Hi; I'm Peter Mulford... the other hall master. You're Mark, right?" "Yes; Mark Jenkins. Pleased to meet you." "Christ! Would you look at us? We're the fuckin' Bobbsey Twins!" said Peter with a big grin. And indeed, the two men were almost comically similar in the way they were dressed -- blue oxford button-down, rep tie, grey Harris tweed jacket, khaki trousers, and brown penny-loafers. The similarity extended beyond their clothing as well, as both had fairly short hair (compared to the long-hair norm for young men in the late 1970s) and both were average height, reasonably attractive, and physically fit. "Yeah," laughed Mark. "I guess the preppy look never dies for some of us. Were you at the faculty dinner last night? I don't remember seeing you there." "I bailed on it, I'm afraid. Had to get one last night of freedom before we go into lock-down mode," he joked. "Just in case you haven't heard, you need to drive about an hour and a half down to Albany to find anything resembling a nightclub where you can meet interesting people and have a little fun... not that we get much time off to make the drive. Can you believe one day off every two weeks?" "Yeah; I got the full run-down from Headmaster Winston. So, how long have you taught here? What's your subject?" "Seven years, teaching Biology," said the older man. "I came here right out of college. How about yourself?" "I graduated last Spring. I've done substitute teaching back in my home town... the Cleveland suburbs... but I couldn't find the right fit for a full-time job until now." The lie rolled off his tongue easier each time he told it. And besides, it wasn't really a lie; just an avoidance of certain embarrassing truths. "So I hear you've got all of Ol' Ned's jobs." "Old Ned?" asked Mark in a confused tone. "The late Edward Rupert. He was hall master, a history teacher, and coached wrestling to the 7th and 8th grade." "Oh; right. Mr. Rupert. Yes; I'm taking all of his responsibilities. I understand he died rather suddenly. A heart attack at the beginning of Christmas break?" "Yep. And if you believe the rumor mill, he went out in style," said Peter with a wink. "How so?" "It seems that a copy of the police report and autopsy was sent to the school. The story from the folks in the school office is that his naked body was found in a flop-house hotel near Times Square. The person at the desk got an anonymous call, and he was found face-down on a bed that hadn't been slept in, with traces of someone's semen in his mouth and a load of someone else's semen in his ass. He had lubricant on his dick and his right hand, lying on a puddle of his own cum." Peter had a self-satisfied grin on his face, clearly amused about spreading the salacious gossip about the deceased teacher. "I guess it was just too intense for a 57-year-old guy." "Wow!" said Mark softly. But before he could think of anything else to say, the first student came up the steps, an older teenager accompanied by his parents. "Here we go," said Peter. "The semester has officially begun. This kid is on my corridor, so I'll talk to you later." For the next three hours, Mark stood outside the door of his room at the head of a dorm corridor, chatting with the boys and their parents as they arrived. All of the parents mentioned how shocked they had been to receive the letter informing them of the death of man that Mark was replacing. None seemed aware of the gossip about its circumstances. As Mark met each boy, he couldn't resist sizing up their attractiveness and their appeal to erotic sensibilities, as his imagination tried to picture each of them naked. The boys on his corridor were ages 12 through 15 and varied widely in appearance. Many of the younger ones had not yet begun their adolescent growth spurt while some of the older ones were taller than Mark. And of course they also came in varying degrees of sex appeal to a boy-lover like Mark. Most of them seemed reserved and fairly uncommunicative when meeting Mark, being more interested in getting together with their friends to compare notes about Christmas gifts and holiday adventures. A few, however, were eager to talk with their new hall master. A 13-year-old 8th grader named Chris Martin was particularly interested in Mark at their initial encounter. Chris wasn't a particularly attractive boy, with an unfortunate nose and some acne marring his face, but he seemed almost star-struck as he looked up into the teacher's eyes. His mother had brought him, and after Chris had finally gone off to his room down the hall, she spoke privately with Mark. "Chris is... well... `sensitive', Mr. Jenkins. He can be quite outgoing, but he often has trouble relating to other boys. He was bullied at the school he attended last year, but he seems to fit in much better here at Hardcrest. I know that Mr. Rupert looked after Chris and counseled him, and I hope you'll show the same concern for him. His father and I are divorced, and I think Chris benefits from having a man as a caring mentor." "I understand, Ms. Martin," said Mark reassuringly. "I'll make sure things continue to go smoothly for your son. He seems like a fine young man." What Mark was actually thinking, however, was that the boy seemed like a total sissy-fag. Mark had been careful over the years to suppress any such tendencies in himself, always striving to project a masculine image... even if it didn't always match his inner feelings and sexual fantasies. Those feelings and fantasies were stoked in a big way when he greeted one of his older boys, a 9th grader named Tony DiPalo. No parents accompanied him, as he had gotten a ride with an upperclassman who'd brought his own car. In fact, the black-haired 15-year-old could easily have passed for an upperclassman himself, with long sideburns and a stubble of whiskers that suggested he needed to shave daily. And there was an underlying vibe of sinister eroticism that he projected when he was meeting Mark, which made the man feel slightly frightened... and undeniably aroused. "Old Ned and I had an understanding with each other," said the boy. His dark eyes were locked onto Mark's with an intensity that made it feel as though the boy had the power to see into the man's brain and read his secret thoughts. Mark looked away, feeling as if the boy's gaze was burning into his soul. But as he lowered his eyes, he was now staring at the tight crotch of Tony's jeans, and he couldn't help but stare at the bulge that extended several inches down his left leg. The exciting image of a long, thick erection on a sexually-dominant 15-year-old flashed through Mark's mind. "You and me are gonna have a private talk sometime," said the boy in an assertive tone. "I think we can work out an arrangement that's beneficial to both of us." He reached out to shake Mark's hand, and held onto it, squeezing firmly, for several long moments. "Yes," murmured the teacher, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. "That would be... good." When Tony walked down the hall and into his room, Mark shivered and took a deep breath. He had never encountered a boy like Tony before... except on the pages of a porn magazine... and he had a swirling mix of emotions about what had just occurred. Although he felt the thrill of sexual excitement, he was glad it was over. He felt much more comfortable in admiring the beauty and innocence of the younger boys... the kind of boys with whom he had become sexually involved at the other school... the kind with whom he had discovered the joys of boyhood sex, when he was just coming into puberty himself at the age of 13. One of the last boys to arrive, late in the afternoon, exemplified Mark's ideal of boy-beauty to such a degree that seeing him literally took the teacher's breath away. He found himself shaking hands with a vision that could have stepped out from his most intensely erotic fantasies. The boy's name was Brian Johansson, a 12-year-old 7th grader. His face was totally gorgeous; his body slender and lithe. He had the features of the child-actor Ricky Schroder, with long straight honey-blond hair that brushed his shoulders and long bangs that were pushed to the side of his forehead. Although he had an almost-feminine beauty, his manner was all-American-boy... self-confident, friendly, well-spoken, and intelligent. Best of all, his dorm room was right next-door to Mark's own quarters. And Brian's roommate, Tommy Morris, was also quite appealing to Mark, with a handsome face and a body that was sturdy and broad-shouldered. Mark watched as the two boys greeted each other happily. And instead of sending his parents off with the typical perfunctory good-bye, Brian gave them both a warm hug and a kiss on the lips, telling each that he loved them... said without a hint of embarrassment. Only then did he disappear into his room with his friend Tommy. Mark remained in the corridor, greeting the last of the arriving students, but part of his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what Brain and Tommy might be doing together behind the closed door. At 6 o'clock, a bell sounded to call the boys and resident staff to dinner. The mealtime was accompanied by the happy chatter of schoolmates who had been apart from each other for two weeks. Mark sat at the head of a long table. Though he was surrounded by boys, his gaze was frequently drawn to the sight of Brian. The lad was sitting with Tommy at the far end of the table, chatting and giggling with the boys around them. Mark talked casually with several students at his end of the table, but it was Chris who had grabbed a seat right next to him and monopolized the conversation. Although he was acting like the classic brown-nosing "teacher's pet", the 13-year-old was actually rather funny and entertaining as he related anecdotes from his Christmas vacation. It was somewhat awkward for Mark that the boy seemed to be flirting with him, in his effeminate sissy-boy voice. And then mid-way through the meal, Mark felt a hand resting on his knee, accompanied by a knowing glance from Chris. Mark's sex-driven instinct jumped ahead of his common sense, and he covered the boy's hand with his own, moving it farther up his inner thigh toward his crotch. After a few seconds his brain finally engaged, and Mark gently pushed the boy's hand away, turning his attention to the boy sitting on his other side. He could feel his face blushing with embarrassment and arousal, and he knew that Chris was grinning. As dinner ended and they all filed out of the dining hall, Chris continued his flirtatious conversation with Mark all the way back to the dormitory corridor. While most of the other students went to the commons room to watch television or play cards or chess, or to the gym to shoot baskets, Chris lingered around and invited himself into Mark's room. He sat down on the bed as if it were his own room and kept up his monologue. "I used to come in here all the time with Mr. Rupert," he said. "He would make us tea with his hot-plate, and we would talk about all sorts of things." The boy spread his legs apart a bit and ran his fingers lightly along the inside of his thigh. "We spent some very enjoyable times together," he added, one hand patting the bed casually. The hint was almost blatant, but Mark didn't pursue it. "You must be quite sad about his death," said Mark, even though the boy didn't appear the least bit saddened. "I suppose," said Chris, noncommittally. "But I'm glad they picked you to replace him. Mr. Rupert was really old, you know. But you're so much younger and a lot more.... mmmm...." The rest of the sentence trailed off unspoken, but the boy's mischievous smile conveyed his meaning. And in case there was any doubt, the tip of his tongue emerged from his sensuous mouth and traced a slow circle around his full lips. For a long moment there was silence in the room. To anyone but a boy-lover, the efforts of the unattractive 13-year- old might have appeared comical. But Mark felt himself being drawn powerfully into erotic temptation. This was so different from what had transpired at the other school, several months before, where Mark had exercised such caution with the 7th and 8th grade boys that he had selected as his "special friends". He had been methodical in his seductions as he had pursued them. A friendly pat on the shoulder one day had become an arm around the shoulders on the next; a playful pat on the butt preceded a lingering caress. The teacher's friendly conversations became increasingly heavy with innuendo and sly humor about the changes that boys go through on the cusp of puberty. A touch on the knee was repeated on several different occasions before fingers slid farther up the boy's thigh toward his crotch. If a boy seemed uncomfortable with the direction he was being led, Mark had eliminated him from further pursuit, remaining friendly but not seductive. The elaborate game took more than 2 weeks before he was finally stroking and sucking a boy's cock, and a week after that before he had won over a second to the joys of sex-play with the handsome young teacher. But here in his room at Hardcrest, the tables had turned. The student was seducing the teacher, and the boy seemed not at all interested in taking things slowly. Even though Mark kept telling himself that Chris wasn't his type, he felt a throbbing in his crotch and tightness in his chest as he watched Chris's invitingly-parted lips and the hypnotizing eroticism of the boy's tongue. The teacher almost closed the door and succumbed to his sexual desire. It seemed clear that Chris would get on his knees and use his sensuous mouth to pleasure the man's cock. As much as his body wanted the thrill of again having sex with a boy, Mark's brain knew he had to stop immediately, before his resolve crumbled. He had gotten fired from his previous job after getting caught being sexual with a willing boy, and he was determined not to let it happen again. "Well, uh, thanks for stopping by to visit, Chris," said Mark as he walked toward the door and opened it further. "We can talk again another time." If it had been Brian coming onto to him like this, Mark thought to himself, would he have been able to resist? Chris shrugged, his expression saying `I know you want it.' Mark closed the door of his room behind him, gripping his hands into fists and closing his eyes as sexual tension throbbed in his body. The mental images that his brain produced were not of Chris, but instead of Brian. Beautiful, angelic Brian. Fantasies of the boy flooded Mark's thoughts, picturing the boy stripping nude and stoking his youthful penis to a beautiful pre-pubescent erection. Then Mark's imagination added Tommy to the scene, also naked and proudly showing off his own boner. Mark envisioned Tommy as having a bigger dick than Brian's, maybe even pubescent. The man urgently rubbed his crotch through his khakis as he imagined the two boys feeling up each other's cocks as they stood close together... then rubbing their cock-heads against each other in a deliciously pleasurable "sword-fight". And then he fantasized them kissing... tongue sliding against tongue, as they became increasing excited and hugged each other passionately. Mark groaned with pent-up lust. He felt a strong desire to pull out one of the porn magazines that he'd bought the previous day in New York City; the one with an assortment of young Danish Boys. He could masturbate to images of long-haired blond boys, around Brian's age, engaged in wonderfully explicit boy-sex with each other. He slid his hand inside his pants, squeezing the stiff boner that was begging for relief. "No. I've got to show some discipline here. I'm the hall master, and I have responsibilities to these boys." Mark went into the bathroom adjoining his room and splashed cold water on his face. He took some deep breaths and headed out of his room. He made a circuit of the places where his boys were hanging out, talking with some briefly but mostly leaving them to their own recreation. In the gym, he watched for a while as a group of boys played a pick-up basketball game, refereed by Mr. Mulford, the other hall master. Some of the other boys were casually shooting baskets at other nets, and Mark joined each group for a while. When it got to be 8 o'clock, Mulford called out to the younger boys to head back to the dormitory. The schedule for the 7th through 9th graders required them to take a shower in the evening, unless they had already showered following the regular athletic program on school-day afternoons, and be back in their rooms for good by 8:30. They would have another hour to read or relax until 9:30, and then it was lights-out time. As Mark returned to the dorm corridor, he heard sounds of physical activity and grunts of exertion coming from Brian's and Tommy's room. Could they possibly be...? He knocked on the door. "It's Mr. Jenkins. Can I come in?" "Come in!" called two high-pitched voices. When he opened the door, Mark found both boys standing in the middle of their room wearing nothing but white briefs. Their faces were flushed and they were breathing heavily, but they were both grinning. The room's steam radiator was overheating the room (as it did Mark's room), and a sheen of sweat made both their bodies glow. The teacher's eyes scanned down the two luscious young bodies, focusing momentarily on the bulges made by their dicks, pushing out the material of the snug briefs. Neither 12-year-olds had a boner, but the sight was intensely erotic nonetheless. "Hi, boys," said Mark casually, careful to keep his eyes from too-obviously wandering down again. "What are you guys up to?" "We were doing professional wrestling!" said Tommy cheerfully. "I'm being Hulk Hogan." "Yeah!" chimed in Brian. "And I'm Ric Flair." "Sounds like a lot of fun!" said Mark with a friendly grin. "I haven't spoken to you since you arrived this afternoon, so I just wanted to say hello again and let you know that I'm always available if you want to talk about a problem you're having or about anything else... even if you need to wake me in the middle of the night. So are you guys taking wrestling for your athletics this season? I'll be taking the coaching your age group you know." Both boys' faces lit up with smiles. "Yeah! We both are!" said Tommy. "I'm taking it for the first time," said Brian. "I'm not very good yet, but I really like it so far. Tommy's been doing it since 4th grade, so he's better at it." "I wish they'd open up the wresting room after dinner, like they do with the basketball courts," said Tommy. "Then we could do professional wrestling on the soft mats, and maybe practice real wrestling too." "That's a good idea," said Mark. "I'll find out for you. If you like, maybe we could even do an informal practice in the evening, and I could teach you guys some moves that I learned in college. You'd be learning things that the day- students wouldn't know, and you'd have a leg-up on them during the regular practices." "Yeah!" said the boys in unison. "That would be great!" added Tommy. "Definitely!" said Brian. "Wrestling is so cool!" Then he hunched into a wrestler's crouch as if challenging the teacher to a match. Mark playfully grabbed the boy in a clinch, one hand on his arm and the other around the back of his neck, and jostled with him for a few seconds. The man felt his pulse quicken the instant he touched Brian's bare skin and inhaled the boy-smell of his hair, only inches from his face. Not to be left out, Tommy came around behind Mark and grabbed him around the waist. "Let's double-team him, Brian!" said the athletic youngster, as they sandwiched the man between their half-naked bodies. "Whoa!" laughed Mark. "You guys are good, but we should save it for the wrestling room. Right now it's time for you to take your showers and wash that sweat off." He wished they would have promptly stripped off their briefs then and there, but they didn't. "Yes, sir," they both said, and waited for the teacher to leave the room before emerging half a minute later with towels around their waists and toiletry kits in hand. Mark stood in the hall, talking to several of the other boys as they made their way to the showers. Most wore only towels, while some wore bathrobes. He considered whether he dared to look into the shower room to check on things. The headmaster had stressed to Mark that it was his responsibility to prevent excessive boisterousness in the showers of the dorm and the gymnasium, but he decided that the sight of a dozen or so naked boys might drive him crazy with desire right now. As Mark stood in his doorway, one boy came in his direction, rather than toward the showers. It was Chris, wearing a short Chinese-style silk robe that came down to mid-thigh and was loosely tied with a sash. "Could I talk to you about something Mr. Jenkins... in private?" He strode into Mark's open door. "What is it, Chris?" asked Mark as he came into the room and closed the door. "I'm feeling kind of sad. The other guys on the hall don't like me," said the boy, as his fingers toyed with the overhand knot holding his sash. "I try to be friendly, but they ignore me and say things about me behind my back. I think they're prejudiced because I'm... you know." He looked up at the teacher with sad puppy-dog eyes. "When Mr. Rupert was here, I could come and talk to him about it." "Well," said Mark; "that's my job now, I guess. I'll try to be here for you like Mr. Rupert was." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Jenkins!" said Chris, still in his sad-puppy mode. "Whenever I felt sad like this, Mr. Rupert would give me a hug. Would you do that too?" Mark hesitated a moment. He knew that he should keep this boy at arm's length. But if he was feeling low and just needed a hug.... He relented and opened his arms to Chris. The youngster was shorter than the man, the top of head coming up just below Mark's chin. Chris pressed his face against the teacher's chest as he wrapped his arms behind the man's back. In spite of Mark's misgivings about Chris, it felt undeniably good to be hugging a boy again. His arms wrapped around Chris's shoulders, and he rested his cheek on the boy's wavy brown hair. Almost inevitably, the thought came to him. `If only this were Brian.' Just as Mark was thinking it was time for the hug to end, he felt Chris's body pressing tighter against him. It took a few seconds for the teacher to realize that the boy's crotch was humping him rhythmically... and that a stiff boy-cock was grinding against his thigh. But before he could say anything, Chris stepped back from him. "Mr. Rupert liked to see my body," said the boy, as he untied the sash and opened the front of the bathrobe. "I know I'm not handsome or anything, Mr. Jenkins, but do you like the way my body looks too?" The robe slipped off his shoulders and fell to the floor, and Chris stood there wearing only the skimpiest of red bikini briefs, his youthful erection pointing upward and pushing against the material "Uh, Chris... maybe you shouldn't...." Mark never completed the thought. He knew he should protest more emphatically, but part of him was eager for it to continue. "He liked to watch me do a strip-tease...." The boy began moving his body in a slow, sensuous dance. "Like this," said Chris as he ran his hands lightly over his chest, down his belly, and over the bulge in the girlish underwear. He turned around, facing away from the teacher, and ran his hands over the slender rounded globes of his butt. As he played teasingly with the elastic waistband, pulling it down a little on one side and then the other, Mark stood silently, his mouth hanging open, unable to stop himself from watching. Slowly, erotically, the boy pulled the back of the panties all the way down to fully reveal his butt, leaning over and moving it from side to side. "Chris...." The man's protest was half-hearted and futile. The boy turned to face the teacher and pulled down the front of the underpants just enough to reveal the reddened glans of his stiff penis. Then he nudged the waistband down, slowly revealing the entire slender shaft. The erection stood straight up, a little over 4 inches [10cm] and beautifully formed, hairless at its base, with a soft sack of barely-adolescent balls dangling beneath. Chris quickly pushed the sexy underpants the rest of the way down, pulling them off and casting them aside. The boy repeated his unanswered question. "Do you like the way my body looks, Mr. Jenkins?" Chris didn't have a pleasing face, but there was no doubt that his body -- especially his rigid penis -- conformed perfectly to the young teacher's erotic attraction. "Oh... god... yesss..." The words came as a whispered, pleading sigh from Mark's lips. The slutty 13-year-old had hooked him like a fish, and was now reeling him in. Chris's fingertips began to fondle his beautiful boner, as his hips continued to gyrate subtly in a sensuous dance. "Mr. Rupert liked to watch me stroke it," the boy said as he slowly masturbated the circumcised boy-cock. Then he moved closer to Mark. "And he really liked to feel me," the boy murmured as he rubbed his naked body, cat-like, against Mark. "Do you want to feel me up, Mr. Jenkins?" The teacher's hand moved to the boy's erection as if controlled by a force outside him. He stroked the warm firmness of the smooth shaft and moaned softly. It was the first time Mark had touched a boy's stiff cock in nearly 3 months, and he trembled at the intensely erotic sensation. His hand slid down to the boyish balls, gently fondling the adolescent orbs in their soft dangling pouch, and then returned, as if by compulsion, to savor the incredible pleasure of caressing the youthful boner. "You can feel my ass too if you like," purred the boy. He took Mark's other hand in his own and brought it to his slender butt cheek. "Mr. Rupert didn't fuck me, but I bet you'd like to. The upperclassmen that I date say I'm a really good fuck... nice and tight," he murmured seductively. "But boys are so selfish when they have sex. They just want to have their cum and then shoo me away. I want a real man to make love to me. I want YOU to make love to me, Mr. Jenkins." Now the boy's hand was on Mark's crotch, gently squeezing the man's stiff erection through the khaki trousers. Chris slowly lowered the zipper, as Mark stood there paralyzed. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" Chris said, as his hand reached through the open zipper and the slit in the boxers, wrapping around the teacher's rigid cock. "I'll suck you really good, and then you can fuck me as hard and rough as you like." The boy sank down to his knees in front of Mark and opened his mouth, enveloping the man's cock-head as his tongue swirled around it. "Oh, Jesus!" moaned Mark in a low voice, as Chris's lips began to move up and down, his head twisting from side to side. Mark wanted to say how wrong it was for a teacher and student to be doing this. But what came out of his mouth was "Yeah... suck it. Oh god, that feels so good!" "Mmmmmm..." replied the boy as he continued to expertly fellate the man's cock, while squeezing his balls gently. Chris's lips moved all the way down the shaft, taking the cock-head into his throat, holding it there as his throat muscles contracted around it. Then Chris's lips rose back up and began making rapid up-and-down strokes on the top part of Mark's erection, while his hand twirled around the spit-slick shaft. The sensation was so intense that Mark was sure he would be blasting his cum into the boy's mouth at any second. But then the sucking stopped, just as Mark felt his body moving toward the orgasmic point-of-no-return. "Time for you to fuck me now," Chris said excitedly. "Do you want me face-down or on my back?" "Uhhhh..." mumbled Mark. In truth, he had never fucked a boy before... or anyone else for that matter, male or female, though he'd seen it in porn and masturbated to the fantasy innumerable times. "How about on your back?" "Perfect!" said Chris, as he moved across the room to sprawl across Mark's twin-size bed, his legs spread and his arms extended to invite an embrace. "I can take it fine with just spit, but it's nicer if you let me put some lube on your cock and boy-pussy." Mark had never heard the term "boy-pussy" before, and it struck him as both comically vulgar and irresistibly hot. He teacher quickly shucked off his clothes and got the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. Handing it to Chris, he watched as the boy spread it on his ass-hole and then pushed his slippery fingers inside. "Your cock is so beautiful!" said the boy, as he poured some more on his hand. "Kneel between my legs, and I'll lube it up." Mark climbed onto the bed, leaning forward to run his hands over the boy's slender torso, down along his smooth legs, and then back up to his cock. His heart was racing with excitement; stopping this sexual adventure now was unthinkable. Chris's hand slathered the slippery liquid onto the teacher's straining erection, sliding up and down in wonderful masturbation strokes. "I need you in me, Mr. Jenkins! I want your cock so much!" squealed the boy, as he drew his legs up toward his chest, offering up his pink asshole. Mark held his cock in his hand and aimed it toward the target. The boy flexed his anal muscle open, and the man's cock pushed in forcefully, driven by pent-up lust. The boy grimaced at the pain of the too-quick entrance, but then groaned with pleasure as Mark slowed his assault. "Oooo... I can tell how much you want me! Your cock feels so good inside me!" "Ohhhh god!" gasped the teacher, as his hips began to move instinctively in a smooth rhythm of fuck-strokes. Chris reached out and grasped the man's butt. "Yes! Fuck me!... It's so good!" he moaned, as his hands urged the man to thrust even harder. Then the boy's hands moved up to the man's back, pulling him down into an embrace. "Kiss me, Mr. Jenkins!" he pleaded as his arms hugged the man tightly. Mark felt no romantic attachment to Chris, but his lust surged even hotter at the thought of kissing a boy. It was something he had never done before, either in his boyhood sex-play or his seduction of the students several months ago. He had made out with some of the girls he had casually dated in college, when he was trying to project a straight image. And just as he had closed his eyes and imagined being with a boy when he kissed those erstwhile girlfriends, now his mind pictured someone else as his lips pressed against Chris's and their tongues met. `Oh, Brian!' he thought. `I love you!' Mark had never felt such intense sexual pleasure. His hips thrust again and again, sliding his cock back and forth in the boy's tight slippery ass - the first fuck in his entire life - as their tongues entwined. And all the while his mind was focused on the beautiful blond-haired boy that he barely knew. "Fuck me! Oh, yes! Fuck hard!" pleaded Chris, just as Mark was feeling his orgasm rising up inside him. His thrusts came harder and faster. His mind was a delirium of erotic ecstasy, as the sexual tension that had been building all day burst forth deep inside the boy's rectum. Mark had never cum so hard; never experienced an orgasm in which the delicious pleasure-tremors lasted so long. Chris's anal muscle contracted rhythmically around Mark's throbbing cock, as orgasmic aftershocks continued to surge through the man's body. Finally, he rolled off of the boy and they lay together on their sides in each other's embrace. "That was wonderful, Mr. Jenkins," whispered Chris. "Yeah; it sure was!" Mark replied. His hand slid down Chris's back and cupped the boy's shapely butt. "You called me Brian, you know, when you were cumming," said the boy with a giggle. "Jeez! I'm so sorry!" "You don't have to apologize," Chris said. "I'd love to be as beautiful as Brian. But if you want to make it up to me, you could stroke my boner and make me cum, and make out with me some more. I almost came while we were fucking, and I'm really close!" "Of course," said Mark, as his fingers encircled the stiff boy-tool, and his lips pressed against the boy's mouth. The man made a ring with two fingers and his thumb, brushing smoothly up and down the compact boner, as Chris's body tensed and arched up. With Mark's tongue probing deep in the boy's mouth, and his hand dancing briskly over his cock, it was only a minute before a fine spray of nearly- clear fluid squirted from the erection. "That was so nice!" sighed Chris, as his body relaxed. Then he looked into Mark's eyes and said "I know you would rather have been making love to Brian, but I don't think you'll ever get him. Some of the older boys that I play with, they came on to him, and he turned them down. Same with Mr. Rupert." "You mean Mr. Rupert told you about..." "About what he did with other boys? Yeah; sure. I was his favorite, and he told me everything as we lay together in bed after we'd cum... just like you and I are doing now." Mark thought for a moment, and then asked tentatively. "Did he ever say anything about Tony DiPalo?" "Oh my god! You're interested in Tony too?" giggled the boy. "Mr. Rupert had a weakness for kinky stuff with boys like Tony. He called them `rough trade' boys. Mr. Rupert would do the kinky stuff -- you know, getting spanked by Tony, or tied up by him - at one of the faculty houses at the edge of campus. I won't tell you which teacher lived there, but Mr. Rupert would sometimes take me there for sex too... sometimes just with him and me; sometimes the other teacher in a 3-way; and sometimes... well, all I can say is that it could get kinda weird!" "Was it Mr. Hanson's house?" Chris's face showed surprise at first, and then he grinned. "Like I said; I shouldn't tell you. And anyway, I'd better be taking my shower now. Can we make love again sometime? I'll be Brian for you anytime you want. You can even turn out the lights when we make love, so it's easier to imagine." "Sure, Chris," said the man, without giving it any thought. Did he really want to? The answer was clear: Yes! Especially if he couldn't have Brian for real. Chris put on his bathrobe and blew a kiss to the teacher, then disappeared out the door. Mark contemplated his situation. His determination to refrain from having sex with boys here at Hardcrest had crumbled like a sandcastle at high-tide. Maybe he could be satisfied with just having Chris. But then he thought about Tony, and a shiver ran through his body. He opened the bedside drawer where he kept his porn magazines. He selected the one titled "Rough-Trade Hustler", with a big-cocked teenager dominating a man. Was it just an amazing coincidence? Or was it destiny? End of Part 2. Want more? Write to me at bil47_new@yahoo.com To find my other stories, go to Nifty's "Prolific Author" list and click on the link for "Bill".