Date: Mon, 1 Feb 2010 10:54:33 +0000 From: Josh Cock Subject: Gareth 1 As usual, the standard disclaimers apply; if for any reason, you should not be reading this story, then you have been warned. This is a work of fiction, intended for those who enjoy being entertained by reading material of this nature. For those who are so entertained, `Gareth' is a love story divided into two parts for the convenience of those who may not have the time to read it all in one sitting. Gareth Gareth took his time in the shower, enjoying the feel of the not too hot spray on his naked body. Gareth liked showers, enjoyed the way he could alter the nature of the spray, from soft and gentle to a more forceful and concentrated jet, and when he had it like that, he was in the habit of bending forwards so the warm, concentrated, jet of water played on his opened crack, and if he could position himself just right, it would be directed right onto his arsehole. Gareth loved that! When he had the shower like that, it usually finished with him wanking, smothering his front, chest, legs and groin, with soapy lather, so his hands slipped over his skin and his cock felt really special as his soapy hands brought it to orgasm, and his spunk mixed with the soap foam and made it seem as though he'd squirted loads instead of the meagre amount he normally produced. Not that Gareth couldn't squirt loads; his kit was in full working order, it was simply that Gareth preferred to have six or seven meagre squirts in a day, rather than just one big one. Gareth loved orgasms, he was addicted to orgasms. He loved the way the feeling of spunking started sort of at the back of his balls, spread into his groin and lower stomach, made the muscles in his legs go really tense and tight, spread all the way through his body until he was stiff all over, and finally flowed up his cock as his sperm made its way out. That wasn't the sort of feeling Gareth wanted once a day when he could experience it a lot, lot more often! Not today, though, today was different. No wanking in the shower, no wanking when he woke up this morning, indeed, no wanking since yesterday afternoon; Gareth's balls were well full; full, he smirked to himself, of a big, thick, creamy load. Carefully he checked his well washed, lithe, slender body and reached for his Gillette Fusion, battery powered, razor. A few weeks ago he'd discovered that the tiny, fine hairs on his thighs were no longer so tiny and fine on the backs of his legs; they had to go! Gareth hated hair on his body, nasty, unsightly stuff, so he bought the razor and removed the unwanted hair. He only needed to shave about once a week or so, and really it was only the back of his thighs that needed doing, but Gareth did the fronts as well and found that he really liked the totally smooth, silky feel of his legs after he'd shaved them; it added something extra to his wanking. He'd thought about it for around twenty seconds or so after he'd had his first, freshly leg shaved wank, and decided that his cock and balls would feel better without hair as well, so he'd given himself a rule: no hair below the root of his cock, no hair in the bits between groin and legs, no hair more than an inch above cock base, nothing under his arms and, most important of all, absolutely nothing in his arse crack. He shaved his thighs with care, doing each leg three times to ensure not one single hint of anything remained, and then, with even greater care did his balls and cock, trimmed his pubes to perfection and removed anything that spoiled the total smoothness of his arse. Under the arms had to wait until he was out of the shower and in front of the mirror, partly because he didn't want to miss anything, and partly because he wanted to remove hair, not skin. His toilette completed, Gareth admired himself in the full length bathroom mirror. "Fuckin' hot!" he thought as he stared at his reflection. Nice, long and perfectly shaped, slender thighs leading the eye up to his long foreskinned cock hanging limply over his unusually full balls. It wasn't an exceptional cock, just under five inches when hard, which it was for a lot of the time, and not over thick; nothing exceptional, but Gareth liked it and it fitted his hand perfectly! Slender hips, seriously narrow waist, slender, but well developed, chest with two, tempting, brown nipple nubs, just a shade more pink than the brown setting they protruded from, shoulders that had just enough flesh on them not to be bony, and a delicate, slender neck. Nothing really special about his face, but his dark eyes were, he thought, interesting, and his lips were thick enough and red enough to hint of uses they could be put to. `Good, snoggin' lips' were how Gareth described them to himself. His hair was a mass of dark, natural, tight curls that all he ever had to do with it was wash, dry and brush it, no need for tons of gel or fancy, expensive cuts. "Well fuckin' hot," Gareth thought again, gave his balls a quick grope, and then concentrated on getting dressed. Gareth was fifteen, fifteen and six weeks, to be precise. At the age of ten and three quarters it had been made very clear to Gareth that playing with himself was something he should not do. He had been on summer holiday, staying with friends of an uncle in deepest, darkest, Suffolk. The friends had a son, six months younger than Gareth, and the son had two friends who lived next door, one eleven and one twelve. Those three boys had explained, very carefully, to Gareth, both in theory and in practice, that one should not play with one's own cock when there were others around to play with it instead. He learned very quickly, in about thirty seconds, that his little cock was much happier when it was in someone else's hand, and that his own hand found someone else's cock much nicer to hold than his own. A firm believer in the rule of logic, that a single instance is not sufficient to form a general rule, Gareth tested the validity of his discovery as often as he could, with as many different cocks and hands as he could find. The rule held true, though Gareth did discover that cocks with foreskins were much nicer to hold than the ones without. Cocks with foreskins were easy to wank, the skin sliding nicely up and down over the head; circumcised cocks you had to hold lower down and you were more limited in the things you could do with them. That didn't stop Gareth from wanking with boys who were circumcised, cock was hard enough to find without making life even more difficult! It was a circumcised boy who had initiated the next step in Gareth's education about cock and what to do with it. At the age of just fourteen, Gareth had been wanking with a boy with no foreskin. It wasn't the first time they'd wanked together, it was, actually, the third. The boy didn't have a very big cock, he had quite a small cock, in fact, although he was the same age as Gareth, and Gareth found wanking him quite hard -- he couldn't use his whole hand because the cock was too small. Gareth hadn't complained, though, or tried to find an alternative cock, because not only was it their third wank, it was their third wank that week and it was only Wednesday! The boy had asked Gareth if he sucked, and Gareth was forced to say he had never done that. He knew about it, of course -- after all, what is the internet for? The boy then demonstrated, to Gareth's complete satisfaction, that you should never wank yourself, or let someone else wank you, when there's a mouth around that's willing to go round your cock. Having found out that mouth is better than hand as far as his cock was concerned, Gareth checked if it was true the other way as well, and discovered that, nice as someone's cock is when it's in your hand, it's even better in your mouth. The next time he sucked his friend, the following day, Gareth decided he might as well check things out properly and kept his friend's cock in his mouth even though he'd been told spunk was on its way. He took his first mouthful, swirled it around, let it trickle down his throat and decided that was the best way to make cock spunk. It was quite handy as well, because it didn't make much difference if the cock in your mouth had foreskin or not; wanking circumcised boys might not be as good as wanking foreskinned ones, sucking them was really no different. Now Gareth selected his clothes with care; he was about to take another new step in his sexual education, he was soon to be had for the first time by a man, and not just do it with another boy. There had been plenty of offers on the internet, of course, and Gareth had presented his splendid nakedness to a fair number with the aid of his webcam. He didn't care how many guys saw him naked, saw him wank, saw him spunk, as long as it was on his webcam. Gareth was horny, not stupid. No way was he going to meet some strange guy he'd only met electronically, though he had wondered about one or two who'd actually used their own cams and let Gareth see what they looked like. Boys were different. Gareth had met several boys he'd first made contact with in chat rooms. His msn contact list was full of boys who liked cock, and some of them had been local enough to get to know better. The one who'd showed him what his mouth was for was even in Gareth's own class at school! Gareth smirked at his reflection as they both tried to work out which shirt to wear. School was pretty shit mostly, but it did have one or two good points! Thinking that made the shirt decision easy, he'd wear a plain white school shirt, and wear it hanging outside his black school trousers. Quite appropriate, really; he grinned at his reflection and the reflection grinned back; keep the tease going just a bit longer. Gareth knew Jack, the man he was going to meet, knew him quite well. He knew Jack fancied him about twenty seconds after they'd first set eyes on each other. Jack had walked into the classroom, cast a cursory glance round twenty three of the twenty four boys in front of him and a far from cursory, twenty second stare at Gareth. He'd torn his eyes away from Gareth, introduced himself and got on with the lesson, but every now and again Gareth noticed those eyes returning, and Gareth knew his new maths teacher was interested in him, and not as a pupil! Gareth's response was to flirt. He was almost fifteen at the time, and several of the boys he chatted with in chat rooms or on msn claimed to have been with a man. Some even said they had a man as a regular `friend'. Even allowing for the natural exaggeration that boys indulge in where sexual matters are concerned, Gareth was sure that some of them were telling the truth and that it was about time he tried a man as well. Exhibiting himself to guys on cam was fine, but now Gareth had been presented with a real, live man and he was well up for seeing how things might progress. Of course, Gareth wasn't quite fifteen, so that made doing stuff illegal. Jack was his teacher, so that made it illegal times about ten. Illegal times ten is quite attractive to an almost fifteen year old boy, so Gareth flirted. He fluttered his long eyelashes, he raised an occasional eyebrow at suggestive moments, he allowed the tip of his tongue to poke out now and again. He used every bit of body language he could think of to say `I know you're interested. What you gonna do about it?' Nothing worked! Gareth was still the subject of lingering glances from his maths teacher, but Gareth wanted something more substantial than lingering glances! The men Gareth showed off to on cam didn't go in for lingering glances; they wanted full frontals, hard and spunking, and that was something Gareth understood. The way Jack looked at him with those lingering glances told Gareth loud and clear, that full frontal, hard and spunking was something that Jack would very much like to see, so why didn't he do something about it? Not being completely stupid, Gareth worked out that, since it was times ten illegal for Jack to take a now just fifteen year old pupil to bed, perhaps he ought to make that times twelve since he was a boy, not a girl, Gareth decided that Jack was just being careful. He was still interested, Gareth had no doubt about that. The lingering glances had become a little more lingering, and Gareth convinced himself that those glances, more like stares now, involved his maths teacher trying to calculate exactly what was underneath Gareth's school uniform. Gareth had the occasional wank, not that often, usually not more than two or three of his daily six or seven, thinking about what Jack would do when he eventually discovered how accurate or inaccurate his calculations had been. To be fair to Gareth, he hadn't been hunting for a man; he was quite happy with boys, and with his mate, Damien, in particular. Damien, it had been, who had introduced Gareth to sucking, and the boys worked on perfecting their technique with each other on a very regular, like daily, basis. Gareth was convinced that Damien had been introduced to this very enjoyable way of creating orgasms by a man. Two or three times he'd tried to find out where Damien had discovered the art, but the answers were always evasive or just plain lies. "Loads a porn on the net," was a typical answer. Yeh, Gareth had seen all that stuff as well, and knew that cocks got sucked long before Damien had suggested they do it, but knowing about it and suggesting to another boy that they give it a go were very different things. No, it had to be a man; if it had been a boy, Damien would have named names. That's what you did; if you found another kid who was up for giving his cock some real fun, you let your wank mates know; it was only fair. Gareth knew a couple of boys Damian had the occasional session with, and Damien knew about the ones Gareth had found; that way you increased the chances of having something to play with in the evenings or at weekends. You wouldn't share a man, though, Gareth reasoned. You were talking well illegal and big trouble for the guy if things got found out about. Names in papers, everyone at school knowing and all that stuff, let alone the hassle you'd get from parents. No, if you were doing it with a man, you had to keep it well quiet. That meant it stood to reason that the man had to be completely certain that the boy he fancied was going to be totally safe before he made a move, and that, Gareth concluded, was why Gareth's maths teacher was doing no more than mentally undress his favourite pupil. No, Gareth had not been hunting for a man; Gareth just wanted cock exercise. He'd tried a girl when he was fourteen; gone out with her for a couple of months, looking forward to finding out what tit and fanny were like, and what it was gonna be like to have a girl play with his cock. Big letdown! She'd expected Gareth to pay for stuff, like going to the cinema and drinks and things. He'd got hold of her tits, but she never let him anywhere near her fanny, and when she finally agreed to play with his cock she had no idea what to do with it! She either hardly touched it, finger tip stuff, or she tried to pull it out from its roots. If you want your cock dealt with properly, stick with boys, Gareth thought, they know what they're doing. Then this maths teacher happened along and showed obvious signs of interest. If boys know what to do with cock, Gareth thought, it stands to reason a man will know even more; he'll have had years more experience, so going with a man might be quite a bit of fun. Naturally, Gareth did his research on the net; he'd already done a couple of years on this particular research project, but now he concentrated on the man/boy side of things. He read, he looked at pictures and he watched what videos he could get hold of and he learned some interesting things. Up until now, Gareth hadn't bothered much with porn. Since his first lesson, just before he was eleven, Gareth had been much more occupied with the practical nature of things and he'd never been really short of someone to assist in his practical sessions, even if that someone was frequently conducting the session remotely, but then, that's what web cams were for, wasn't it? He'd cam viewed a lot of cocks, and presented his to more viewers than he could count. Now porn demonstrated to him just why a lot of his viewers were interested in his arse just as much, if not even more, than his cock. That was fine by Gareth; if what they called `rimming' and fingering and even fucking him up the arse was half as much fun as having his cock wanked and sucked, then that was fine by Gareth. Now there was a man whom Gareth was sure wanted to do all those things with him and to him, and so far he hadn't done anything more than stare and explain, much more nicely than he explained to the other boys, that he was going about solving a mathematical problem the wrong way. Being a logical person, Gareth reasoned that he was going about this particular problem the wrong way. Fluttering his long eyelashes, smiling and raising a suggestive eyebrow now and again was obviously not going to get very far or get there very quickly. Gareth would have to find an alternative to passive flirting. Gareth decided that walking up to his maths teacher and saying, "Look, I know you fancy me, and I got no objections, so are you gonna shag me or not?" was probably not the best way to go about things. It might be blunt, direct and get straight to the point, but something somewhere in Gareth's mind said that this was doing things the wrong way round. He should not be propositioning Jack; it was the man's job to chase the boy. Gareth wanted to be chased; he'd allow himself to be caught, naturally, but he wasn't just going to give himself up. Gareth had a nice body, he knew that. Christ, he even fancied himself when he looked in the mirror, so it wasn't in the least bit surprising that Jack had the hots for him, and Gareth was certain that Jack most definitely did have the hots! Far too many of those `undressing' type looks for there to be any doubt about that! The first step in Gareth's plan was to be seen by Jack more often. So far all contact had been in the classroom, so that had to change. Gareth started `accidentally' meeting Jack in the corridor leading to the maths rooms at the end of breaks. Not every break, just a few random appearances. Now since Gareth would normally be nowhere near that part of the building unless he had a maths lesson, he reasoned that it shouldn't take long for anyone, even a teacher, to work out that there was something unusual about his occasional appearances. The first time they passed without a word, though Gareth could swear Jack gave him an especially long look. It was the first time he'd seen Gareth other than sitting at a desk, and Gareth knew he had pretty decent legs -- enough men had told him that on cam -- so part of the plan was to give Jack some better `undressing looks' opportunities. Two days later, Gareth was there again, and this time he said, "Hello, sir," with a decent eyelash flutter. The third time Jack spoke first; "Hello again, Gareth. You seem to be around here a lot lately." "Do I, sir?" Gareth responded with all the innocence that a not so innocent just fifteen year old can muster. "It's on my way to class, sir," he lied. "Been sneaking out for a crafty break time fag, have you?" Jack smiled. "Would I do a thing like that, sir?" Gareth almost simpered. "Don't worry, I won't tell," Jack smiled. "Now get a move on or you'll be late and someone might go smelling your breath." "Yes, sir," Gareth grinned, his heart doing a little bounce. Contact had been established and the maths teacher had behaved in a very unteacher like way! Gareth should have been severely reprimanded, warned of the dangers of smoking and probably even been given a detention; that would have been the proper way for a teacher to behave. Jack hadn't done that, though; he'd smiled, been nice and told Gareth not to be late for his lesson in case he was found out. There had been no coded messages, no hints leading to instant understanding and later bedroom, nothing like that. In many of the stories Gareth read online, Jack's body language would have said, "God, boy, I think you're hot!" Gareth would have responded by a shrug that said loud and clear, "I'm available if you're interested," and they'd have met after school, gone to Jack's house and made frantic, passionate love. That was in stories though, and real life moves at a much slower pace. Contact that was something different from normal, in-school, teacher-pupil contact, had been made, and Gareth was happy with that. Gareth thought about it that night as he lay in bed, naked as usual, playing slowly with his five inch erection. Normally it was a case of strip his clothes off, jump into bed, probably hard before he got the covers over himself, and then wank furiously, dreaming of some luscious boy, real or imaginary, with the most amazingly suckable cock, until he squirted his before sleep load over himself. Sometimes, these days, it was an imaginary girl and not a boy that helped his spunk to flow, and Gareth didn't really differentiate; wank fantasies come in all types. It had never been a man, though; even though Gareth had exposed himself to a healthy number of men on his web cam, he'd never actually thought seriously about having sex with any of them, or any other man, any man at all. He'd never done more than idly wonder what it would be like. Obviously it wasn't innocence that had kept men out of Gareth's wank fantasies; men had sex with boys, Gareth knew that well enough. He could go online now, into one of the chat rooms he frequented, and get a dozen offers of sex from men in as many minutes. It wasn't that the idea of sex with a man turned him off, either; those offers would always get him hard and he'd frequently spunk up one load before even getting into bed for his proper night time wank, often doing that for the delectation of one of his invisible, far distant, and, no doubt, equally hard and panting, admirers. It was simply something he'd never thought seriously about actually doing. The concept of actually, in real life, giving his body to a man, had never even occurred to him. It was huge fun teasing those invisible, distant, panting, boy-wanting, watchers, but that's all it had ever been in Gareth's mind. Just teasing; like putting chewing gum in a girl's hair when he was younger, or nicking a mate's pen at school; something you did for a laugh. Now there was a possibility that it might be something a little more than that, something more real, and Gareth needed to think about that, get his teenage head round the idea. He lay on his back in the dark, eyes open, with his balls cupped comfortably in his left hand while the thumb and fingers of his right hand gently stroked his cock and fondled his foreskin. Gareth loved his foreskin, a long and supple foreskin. Even when he was fully hard it never peeled back to let his glans poke through; it peeled if he wanted it to, of course, but most of the time he liked it in its natural state. He often just played with the skin tip, twiddling it between thumb and two fingers; he could even bring himself off like that, twiddling rapidly, his cock, unable to expand fully lengthways because of his fingers, swelling in girth instead. It made an enjoyable change from normal wanking, bringing himself to spunk point just by playing with his foreskin. It took quite a bit longer as well, and that made things even better! Gareth wasn't in spunk producing mode now, he was in thinking mode. He played with his foreskin when he was thinking, it helped him concentrate. He frequently did his homework like that, door shut, cock out, foreskin in fingers. Some people sucked pencils, some smoked fags, Gareth played with his foreskin. It would have been good to have someone he could talk things over with, but he didn't. Damien was the nearest, but Damien was giving cock less and less and sniffing around girls more and more, and, anyway, Gareth knew he couldn't discuss the present situation with anyone. No way could he let anyone know that he thought that there was a teacher interested in him; if that got out it would be well bad news for everyone. That meant he'd just have to work things out for himself. Jack was interested, Gareth was sure of that. "Wouldn't keep lookin' at me like that if he weren't interested, would he?" Gareth asked himself. "Don't look at none of the others like that." That, Gareth knew, was a fact. He'd checked it out, watched Jack like a hawk when he was talking to other boys to see if he was imagining things about the way Jack looked at him. He wasn't, Gareth was sure he wasn't. "Ok, so you're maths teacher fancies you; so what?" That was not an easy question to answer, so Gareth just mentally shrugged while the fingers of his right hand gently played with his foreskin. "Bother you that he fancies you?" Gareth shook his head. No, it didn't bother him. "Course it don't. Wouldn't be chasin' after him if it did, would you." A statement, not a question, but Gareth wanted to argue with it. He wasn't chasing after him, that wasn't fair. "What else you call it?" his mind sneered at him; "Makin' sure he could see you in the corridor two or three times this week?" "Don't know," Gareth told his mind, "Just wanted to sorta meet him, not in class, sorta thing. See what he did." "Yeh, and?" sneered his mind. "An' he smiled an' he was nice." "You got the hots for him?" No, Gareth dismissed the idea after a few moments thinking about it, thinking that involved a bit more finger attention to his foreskin; no, he didn't have the hots for Jack, but he did rather like the idea that Jack fancied him, it made him feel special, somehow. "Look," said his mind, being useful at last, giving some advice; "You gonna go to bed with him or what?" "Not just like that," Gareth told his mind, "Can't just have a quickie with me teacher, can I." "So what if he only fancies you for a quickie?" "Then he can fuck off," Gareth said, out loud this time, without thinking. "Not goin' with a man just for a quickie." This was said inside his head again, not out loud. "What if it's not a quickie he's after? What if he fancies you proper?" Gareth's mind had, of course, asked the question Gareth so much wanted an answer to. And the more Gareth pondered about it, the more he played with his foreskin, the more he realised he knew what the answer was. "Yeh," he whispered to his mind, "Yeh, I'd go to bed with him then." "Right," Gareth and his mind said together, "Here's what you gotta do. You need to find out if he fancies you proper or is just letchin' you. So you do some more casual meetin'. Car park after school, get yourself on detention when you know he's takin' it; praps he plays badminton." That was the one sport Gareth did play, and he played it quite well. "Then, when you're sure he's serious, play him along a bit, let him know he's in with a chance but you ain't givin' it easy; tease him, sorta test him, till you know the time's right." That, Gareth decided, was good advice. That way, Gareth was letting Jack know he was in with a chance, but if he was going to take that chance, then he had to make the moves. Gareth was not just going to hop into bed with him at the first opportunity. And he could have some fun as well, a bit of a laugh, leading his maths teacher along, bit at a time, hint by hint, but never letting anything actually happen until Gareth was ready for it to happen. "No way is he just gettin' me zip undone," Gareth told his cock, "It's gonna be all or nothin'." Satisfied that he'd got things sorted in his head, Gareth stopped playing with his foreskin, gripped his cock properly, and had a good, fast, and very satisfying, night time wank. The next move did happen in the school car park, but it wasn't planned, not by Gareth, at least. Normally, if the weather was decent, he walked home from school, he only lived just about a mile away so it was no big deal. Today he just couldn't be bothered to walk, so he was on his way to catch the service bus -- he lived far too close to school to qualify for any of the school buses, so if he used a bus it had to be a regular one, and he had to pay, which was one of the reasons he usually walked. He was slouching his way across the car park, bag slung over his shoulder when he heard, "Hello, Gareth, what are you up to?" His first reaction was one of standard schoolboy innocence, he wasn't `up to' anything! He was just about to proclaim this in injured self-defence when he realised it was Jack that was talking to him! "Nothin', sir," Gareth still made the standard disclaimer; "Just on me way home." "Don't usually go this way, do you?" Jack asked, the look on his face somewhere between amused, puzzled and, well, undressing. "Nah," Gareth replied, forgetting the obligatory `sir', to be used at all times when addressing any member of staff; "Usually walk, cut across the field. Couldn't be arsed today so I'm gettin' the bus." Gareth's choice of language had been accidental, he had forgotten he was talking to a teacher, but even as he said it, Gareth realised what he had done and waited for the inevitable disapproval. There wasn't any! "Where d'you live, then?" Jack asked instead of telling him off. "Top of Gaydon Road, `bout a mile." "Ah," Jack said, "Fine, see you in the morning," and he got in his car and drove off. "Two things about that," Gareth told his foreskin that night; "One, he didn't give me a bollockin' for swearin'; an' two, he knows where I live." Neither Gareth nor his foreskin could decide which was the more important of the two, so they settled on a wank instead; it seemed a reasonable compromise. Jack, on the other hand, was very sure which was the more important. "Mmm," he thought as he drove home, "Top of Gaydon Road, far enough to make it reasonable to offer a lift home sometime, and convenient, as I can easily go that way myself." Jack was a confirmed admirer of boys: he thought they looked good, smelt sexy and tasted fantastic. Jack enjoyed tasting boys, especially the really delicious bits that boys sometimes made it hard to get to, and made Jack very hard if he got there! But Jack was also a teacher, and he'd made himself a promise when he entered that profession on leaving university, that he would not even think (well, perhaps think, but no more than think) about tasting any of the boys in whatever school he was working in. It wasn't a professional way to behave, and it was also far too bloody dangerous! For fifteen years the classes of boys who passed in front of him were no more than window shopping. There'd naturally been quite a few he wouldn't have minded trying out for size and fit, but he confined all his `purchases' to his visits to other towns and to his holidays. That way he kept his job, stayed out of prison and still managed a reasonable amount of satisfaction. Everyone's a winner. When he'd walked into his year ten class at the beginning of his first term at this new school, his thinking had been no different. Years nine, ten and eleven were his favourite. Below that, Jack did not regard them as being fully human; sure, he'd set eyes on some who would very definitely become human, real boys, given a year or three more to mature sufficiently, and, now and again, there'd be something in the older ones, the `A' level students, that was well worth looking at, but year ten were quite definitely his favourite. He'd walked into the room, given his practised, teacher's cursory glance around the rows of seated boys; a glance designed to appear offhand but in reality a glance that spotted potential trouble makers and potential fantasy material. The glance revealed two smirking boys, marked down instantly as potential trouble, one that Jack knew without even thinking about it, that he'd be able to pick up, successfully, on any street in any town but this one; and then the cursory glance reached Gareth.....and stopped. He`d spent as long looking at Gareth as he had looking at the entire rest of the class. To Jack's way of thinking, the boy was simply beautiful. Not beautiful in any effete, feminine sort of way; no, that boy was very definitely one hundred per cent boy! Yes, he did have a mass of tightly curled black hair, yes, he did have lovely, long eyelashes, and, oh, yes, he had a set of lips just designed for snogging or wrapping round a cock, but he was, most certainly, a real boy! Jack had felt a definite stir in his underwear and a bead of sweat start to form on his forehead. A moment longer and he might even have licked his lips! Instead he tore his eyes away and started his lesson. That boy had been the subject of a large number of long looks over the next few weeks, and it wasn't long before Jack knew the boy had noticed it. Instead of showing any sign of disapproval, instead of making some comment to a classmate, the boy had looked back and then fluttered those long eyelashes and sometimes lifted an eyebrow in a most suggestive and quizzical way. Without a doubt, that boy, Gareth, as Jack now knew him to be, was well aware that the looks had absolutely nothing to do with mathematics and everything to do with something entirely different! That he had become convinced of when he met Gareth for the third time in the corridor near his maths room. The first time may have been accidental, Gareth might just have sneaked out for fag, as Jack had suggested, and sneaked out down this end of the school rather than the more popular, and therefore more patrolled, other end. The second time, two days later, Jack thought, was a bit of a give away. No boy in his right mind would risk a second encounter with the same teacher, in the same place, at the same time, if his purpose for being in that place, at that time, was returning to his own end of the building after an illicit cigarette. No boy would think that anyone, even a teacher, would be so gullible as to believe it was accidental. The third, time, the following day, confirmed it, and Jack felt he had to say something, acknowledge the boy's presence, though he chickened out of anything meaningful, and confined himself to just remarks about getting caught smoking. Gareth, Jack concluded, was there deliberately, and the only reason that made any sense to Jack was that Gareth was there so he could `accidentally' meet Jack outside of the classroom, and the only reason the boy would do that, Jack deduced, was to indicate that he had a fair idea that Jack liked him and he was not averse to being liked. Jack's problem, like Gareth's, was `what to do about it'? Nothing had developed further for the next few weeks, nothing except that Gareth always seemed cheerful in class, and maths was certainly not his best subject, cheerful and helpful, always being willing to lose a few minutes of his break time helping put things away after a lesson if it was needed. Nothing developed, nothing said that was not totally `teacher/pupil', but Jack often had a few moments alone with the boy, moments in which he could admire the slender, but well developed figure, with legs that looked firm and delicious inside their all too concealing school trousers. And Gareth had those same few moments alone with his teacher in which he could flutter his eyelashes and smile. Nothing until the moment in the car park a few minutes ago that had given Jack an opening, a chance to spend a few more minutes with the boy by offering him the occasional lift home. The question Jack had to answer was, would he take advantage of the opening he'd been given? It went against all his instincts of self-preservation; it meant thinking about playing in his own back yard, something he'd sworn he'd never do. It didn't go against other instincts, though, the ones that originated between his legs, and, as is the case with most men, cock over rules brain. It would stay just friendly and innocent, Jack convinced himself, just innocent and friendly, no more than a teacher being a bit extra nice to a pupil he liked and got on with. No more than that.....unless the pupil gave very clear indications that he wanted things to be different, more friendly and less innocent. Then it would be a different matter, but until then, Jack was willing to bend his rule, just a bit. Three thirty on a wet, windy, December afternoon; Jack was in his car, ready to drive off home. School finished at three fifteen, but Jack always sat in his car these days, having an after school cigarette before driving off. He couldn't smoke in school, of course, and even smoking in his own car was frowned upon, but nobody complained, and besides, the bus that Gareth sometimes caught arrived outside the school at three thirty five. Jack always waited until it had gone before he left; just in case. Today was a `might be' day, it might be the day that Gareth chose dry bus instead of wet, cold, windy walk, and if it was, Jack had no intention of letting Gareth catch that bus! He spotted the familiar, slender figure appear in the doorway, some fifty yards away. Jack would recognise Gareth from about half a mile by now, the boy's figure was imprinted on his brain. Gareth pushed the door open, looked at the weather, heavy drizzle and a nice east wind with it, muttered a distinct, "Fuck!" pulled the hood of his coat over his head, hunched himself against the rain, and started the hundred yard or so walk to the bus stop. He'd probably have to wait in this fuckin' rain for ten minutes before the bloody bus came, he thought, but he couldn't risk missing it. He saw Jack's Audi; "Nice motor, lucky bugger," he thought as he trudged across the wet tarmac, eyes mostly fixed on the ground to keep the rain out of his eyes, and to avoid stepping in any of the larger puddles. He glanced up from under his hood as he got closer to the parked Audi, just in case Jack was in it. Gareth saw he was indeed sitting in the car, so he gave a little wave and a smile as he got closer. Jack saw the wave and the smile and his heart gave a couple of extra loud thumps. He answered the wave and smile by lowering his window and beckoning the hunched up boy over towards him. Gareth changed direction in answer to the gesture, heading towards the Audi. "Hi, sir," he called from under his hood; "Can't stop, mustn't miss me bus." Jack said something that sounded very much like, "Sod the bus, hop in." Gareth stopped dead. Had he heard right? Had his maths teacher just both offered him a lift and sworn at the same time? "Come on, it's pissing down out there!" Gareth had heard right, and another swear word as well! Most unteacherly behaviour, and just the sort of behaviour Gareth had almost given up hoping for! He dashed round to the passenger side, opened the door and was in the seat before there was any possibility of Jack changing his mind. "Oh, thanks, sir," Gareth gushed, "I'd have got soaked waiting for the bloody thing." Gareth swore deliberately, just to see if it provoked any reaction. It didn't. "It's always at least ten minutes late." "Why go out early for it, then?" Jack asked, without realising he had given away that he knew the time the bus was supposed to arrive. "Cos if I didn't, it'd be early," Gareth giggled. "Good reason," Jack smiled; "And drop the `sir', I haven't received my knighthood yet." "But..........." Gareth started. "Sir in school, Jack out of it," Jack risked. "Cool," Gareth grinned, his heart fluttering in a most peculiar way; "But I spose we're still sorta in school," Gareth pointed out, "We ain't out the prison gates yet." "Will be as soon as I finish my fag," Jack grinned broadly, amused by the boy's reference to the school gates as `prison gates'. He noticed the boy's barely concealed, envious glance at the cigarette he was just finishing, and said, as nonchalantly as he could manage; and that was difficult, because his heart was fluttering as well; "As you said, still in school, so you have to wait until we've got through those prison gates." Gareth's jaw dropped. "You mean I can have a fag?" he almost squeaked. "Can't see why not, once we're away from here." "Shit!" Gareth breathed, then recovered himself enough to say, "Sorry, sir...Jack, I mean; I meant, well, thanks." "You got any?" Jack asked as he started his engine. "Got one left. Too ...wet to go out to smoke it at afternoon break." Gareth had almost said "Too fuckin' wet," but stopped himself in time. That might be going a bit too far. "Yeh, fucking wet," Jack said for him, making Gareth grin delightedly inside. This was something he'd certainly have to talk over with his foreskin when he got home! "Fags in the lighter tray there," Jack said as they started to move; "And no lighting up before we are outside and away from prying eyes." Gareth nodded, found the packet and extracted a cigarette, ready for the all clear. "You got time to smoke it?" Jack asked as they eased into the traffic, "You only live up the end of Gaydon Road." That was a point! Nowhere near enough time to have a fag, and he couldn't get out of his teacher's car, outside his house, still smoking it. Far too many nosey neighbours! "You could go the long way round," Gareth suggested, wickedly fluttering his eyelashes. This was a grade A teasing opportunity and he wasn't going to waste it on a two minute car ride. "Long way round?" Jack asked. Still fairly new to the area he only knew the one way to Gareth's road. "Go right, not left at the fork," Gareth explained, feeling it safe now to light up his fag. "That'll take us out of town, up into the woods," Jack said, trying to work out if there was a road across. "Yeh," Gareth, grinned, "Give me plenty of time to have me fag." "All sorts of things could happen to a boy alone in the dark woods," Jack risked saying to the road ahead, knowing he was taking a huge gamble, doing something he'd promised himself he never would do. "Yeh," Gareth mused, "But I ain't alone, so they'd happen to you as well." "Could still be risky," Jack pushed a little further, "For a boy alone in a car with a strange man." "You ain't strange," Gareth sniggered, "Bit weird, maybe, but not strange." "You never know. Your mother must have warned you." "Yeh," Gareth agreed, "But there ain't gonna be anythin' happen today." Gareth was not going to give up his all for one measly cigarette! "I got this feelin' nothin'll happen today. Too cold an' wet in the woods for anythin' to happen today." He was willing, though, to hint that there just might be other days. Had Jack heard correctly? Gareth watched the man from the corner of his eye, was he going to react? He'd given a pretty clear hint, hadn't he? "Probably right," Jack agreed when he'd slowed his heart down enough to risk speaking. Perhaps he should have said more, let the boy know he'd picked up the hint? But that might have been pushing things too far, Gareth's words might not have contained the meaning Jack so much wanted them to contain. "Turn off up there," Gareth instructed, pointing to a track off to the left. "Up there? That's a cart track!" "Nah, one of the forestry roads; cuts across to Gaydon." "Ok," Jack did as instructed and they were deep in the woods, headlights on in the deepening gloom. "Definitely the sort of woods where things might happen," Jack tried again. If nothing else he might find out if Gareth had meant what he seemed to have meant. "Yeh, spose they might," Gareth half agreed, "When it's warm an' dry I spose things could happen." The inside of the Audi was thick with Gareth's cigarette smoke and with sexual innuendo, and if Jack interpreted Gareth's part of this word game correctly, the boy was saying, "I know what you want, you might get lucky, but not yet." Jack very much hoped that was what Gareth was saying, Gareth knew that was exactly what he was saying! "Ok," Jack thought, "So I need to get to know you a little better, need to spend some more time with you. Now how the hell do I contrive that?" Gareth unwittingly provided the solution. His plans were similar, almost. He wanted more time with Jack so he could continue the teasing, the leading and refusing. This little car ride had been great fun; more was needed. "You play badminton?" Gareth asked, ending the innuendo word game. Jack thought about saying something about `shuttling cocks' but decided against it, enough innuendo for one day. "Nah," he said instead. "Skittles is the only thing I play." "Skittles?" Gareth chortled, "Why the fuck you play skittles?" He felt secure enough now to use the F word without worry. "Because you play it in pubs, and you get thirsty," was Jack's answer. "Fair enough," Gareth grinned, "Sounds reasonable." "And as it so happens," Jack seized the heaven sent, or at least, Gareth sent, opportunity, "We got a match tomorrow night." "Cool," Gareth responded, with no enthusiasm whatsoever, his own plans of getting Jack to play badminton with him having been shot down. "And we need a sticker up." "What's one of them?" Gareth's question was out of politeness rather than interest. "Someone to put the skittles back up after we knock them down." "Sounds well borin'," Gareth grunted. "It is, but the sticker up gets paid a tenner, and free drink and fags." Bait, complete with bribe, offered. "Yeh, that might be worth gettin' bored for," Gareth acknowledged with a little grin; both bait and bribe were worth following up. "You up for it?" Jack asked, praying that the answer would be `yes'. "Could be," Gareth conceded. A night in a pub, free drink, some fags and an evening with Jack where he could continue his tease? Of course Gareth was up for it! "Let me know tomorrow," Jack said as they drew up outside Gareth's house. "After school. Give you a lift home again, it's bound to be raining." "Yeh, cool," Gareth smiled, and couldn't resist another little tease; "An' we can go through the woods again," he paused, "You never know," Gareth paused again, letting tension build just a little, "You might let me have another fag." He smiled, got out of the car, gave another smile, a decent eyelash flutter, a wave, and ran off up to his front door. "No talkin' this over yet," he said silently to his trouser hidden foreskin, "I need a fuckin' good wank!"