All the usual disclaimers apply. You must know what that means by now, so I won’t spell it out.

There’s not too much else to say either, except thanks once again for the feedback over the past week. So read on & enjoy! More feedback is always welcome, of course; please send your comments to and I’ll reply as soon as I can.


The half term break was cool. I still had some maths to do, but apart from that I just took things easy. Mum was delighted that I’d got a scholarship; Liz and Kate congratulated me too. I had couple of Kate’s friends all over me, which was pretty weird. They suddenly seem to think I’m really cool; a few months ago they didn’t want anything to do with me. Girls are like that. Even dad admitted that I’d done better than he thought I would. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I usually get. Luke was very pleased when I told him that I’m going to be at Charterhouse. To be honest, I’m really looking forward to going there now, and the fact that I know Luke and Callum is going to make settling in much easier.

I wasn’t the only one that got a scholarship, Justin and Craig did too. Justin’s going to Sherborne, which is what he wanted because it’s not far from where they live, and Craig’s going to Radley College. Dominic missed out, but still did well enough to get a place at Wellington College, where his dad went, so he’s happy enough. Mr. Halford was very pleased; three scholarships in one year is the best the school’s ever done.

Martin’s been offered a place at Winsthorpe College, the senior school of the lot that won the prep schools’ cross-country; it seems like they’re always on the lookout for good runners. Martin did well enough in Common Entrance so they offered him a place. It’s up in Derbyshire, nearly two hundred miles from where they live, but he doesn’t care; it’s like he’s won the football pools. I’m pleased for him; he deserves it.

We did the first paper of our maths exam on Monday; the second paper was this morning. It was okay; I answered all the short questions in section A without too much trouble and in section B where you have a choice I found enough long questions that I was able to do. We did a mock exam a few weeks back; Mr. Thompson said he thought I’d get a grade 2 or a grade 3. Well, I know I’ve done better this time, so probably a grade 2; I’ll be happy with that.

Now I really can relax. As usual we’re playing cricket tomorrow, but on Sunday I’ve got something different to look forward to; I’m going to watch Will competing in the Sussex Schools’ Athletics Championships down in Brighton. I’m usually playing cricket when Will’s competing, but there are so many different events that the meeting’s spread over two days. When I found out that both of Will’s events were on the Sunday I asked Mr. Cooper if I could go with them. I thought he might be a bit funny about it, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I’m sitting with Mr. Cooper in the stand at the Brighton athletics track; it’s the first proper athletics meeting I’ve been to. I thought about bringing the camera but Mr. Cooper said I wouldn’t be allowed to get in close so I didn’t bother. Will’s warming up for the heats of the junior boys’ hurdles race; that’s the second event on after the junior girls have done theirs. He’s competing against boys a year older than us; that’s how the age-groups work in athletics. But he’s done well in the competitions he’s been in so far and he’s feeling very confident, so I think he should do okay.

We watch the heats of the girls’ race. There are a few good ones, but most of the girls look awkward and clumsy. When it’s finished, the officials start moving the hurdles.

“The girls run seventy five metres,” Mr. Cooper explains, “the boys run eighty, so the hurdles are further apart. They’re higher too.”

The boys are ready to go. Will’s in the first heat. The gun sounds and they’re away. Man! He is so smooth; he makes it look effortless! He wins easily. That’s pretty impressive against kids a year older. The boys line up for the second heat. A black kid catches my eye; I don’t know why, he just looks the part somehow, tall and lean, but with broad shoulders and powerful-looking thighs. The gun goes. I was right about the black kid; he’s as smooth as Will, but faster and more aggressive; he blows everyone else away.

“He should win it,” Mr. Cooper says quietly, consulting his stopwatch. “He’s nearly half a second faster than Will. I fancy Will for second though.”

Will returns to the stand and flops down next to us.

“So how was that?” I ask.

“Pretty easy,” he says, grinning.

“Did you see the kid who won the second heat?”

“Yeah, that’s Ezra Campbell; he’s brilliant. He’s about eighteen months older than me though.”

We sit quietly, waiting for the final. Will’s just relaxing and preparing, the same as we do before rugby matches, so I’m not going to disturb him. Finally he trots off to warm up. Fifteen minutes later they’re on their marks. They rise into the set position and they’re off. There are really only the two of them in it, but Campbell is stronger and quicker; he looks superb; it’s a shame I couldn’t have filmed it. He wins, with Will clear in second place; nobody else is even close.

“We’ll need to check the official result,” Mr. Cooper says, “but I’m pretty sure Will got a personal best there”

“What was it before?” I ask.

“Twelve point nine; I made that twelve point six, but we’re not on the finish line.”

The presentation happens ten minutes later. Will’s official time for the hurdles was twelve point seven seconds, not quite as fast as we thought, but still a personal best; Will’s more than happy. Ezra Campbell ran eleven point nine, which sounds incredibly fast to me. We both applaud as Will receives his silver medal. I’m really pleased for him. He’s one of my best mates ever; after the difficult time he went through last year it’s great to see him come back like that. Now it’s on to the important one; the high jump starts in just over an hour.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After what seems like an interminable wait, Will goes to warm up again. Mr. Cooper and I take our things and go and sit on the grass bank opposite the high jump area so we can watch. Will’s won all three of his high jump competitions, but apart from the first one the weather wasn’t that good, so the best height he’s managed has been one metre seventy five; that’s five feet nine, an inch over his head. That was a new school record and I can’t even imagine how he can do that, but he’s sure he can go higher. Well, today the conditions are just about perfect with the temperature in the mid seventies and very little wind, so we’ll soon see.

The early rounds seem to take forever; there are twelve jumpers and they’re allowed three attempts at each height before they’re eliminated. Gradually the numbers are whittled down. The bar is raised to one metre seventy five. Will clears it first time, the same as he has at each of the previous heights. Two more boys are knocked out; there are just four of them left. The bar goes to one metre eighty, more than two inches higher than Will’s ever jumped. The first boy clears it first time, the second lad fails; now it’s Will’s turn. The tension is unbelievable; you can feel it. I daren’t speak to Mr. Cooper; I don’t even look at him, just keep my eyes glued on Will. He composes himself and runs in. He takes off and soars over the bar, another first time clearance and another school record, absolutely amazing! Mr. Cooper clenches his fist; I can’t believe how involved he is. We smile at each other, but we still don’t say anything; they haven’t finished yet.

After it all shakes out, they’re down to three. The next height is one metre eighty three. All of them fail at their first attempt. They try again. The first lad fails the second time, now it’s up to Will. He stands there looking at the bar, making little movements, like he’s running through in his head what he had to do. It reminds me of the routine that Paz goes through before he kicks for goal. Finally he runs in; I can hardly bear to watch. He takes off and clears it.

“Yes!!” Mr Cooper calls, punching the air.

And suddenly I see it, there in his eyes. All the doubts I’ve had about his relationship with Will evaporate in an instant. All the work they’ve put in, all the patience he showed last year when things weren’t going well, have finally been rewarded and it means everything to him. It’s as though it’s what he lives for, and in a sense I guess it is. He probably cares more about Will than anyone does. Having sex is just part of their relationship; I never really understood that before, but I do now. I guess Mr. Halford must know about that too, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows how important it is for Will to have someone like that in his life, not to mention how much all the rest of us benefit from having a teacher as good and dedicated as Mr. Cooper is.

Right now, I’m almost envious of Will; I’d love to have someone that I could look up to like that, but the thing is, I’m not sure I could. I’m too keen on doing things my own way; I don’t think it would work. I guess that was what Mr. Halford meant when he said I can be difficult; that’s something else he got right.

Almost as an afterthought the other two high jumpers fail their remaining attempts, leaving Will as the winner. I’m expecting it to be all over, but Will asks for the bar to be taken to one metre eighty five. He fails his first attempt and goes back for a second try. Once again he takes his time, getting perfectly focussed before he begins his run-up. He takes off and soars into the air. The bar wobbles but stays on; he’s done it!

“That’s six feet one,” Mr. Cooper says, a note of quiet satisfaction in his voice.

Six feet one? Will’s only five feet eight, which is pretty tall for thirteen, so he just jumped five inches over his own head! I mean, how d’you do that??

Fifteen minutes later Will returns from the presentation like a dog with two tails. To my surprise, Mr. Cooper takes him to one side and tells him something. Will jumps in the air, gives Mr. Cooper a big hug then bounds over to me.

“I’ve got a half-fees scholarship to Marlborough College!” he says excitedly. “The athletics facilities there are superb! I knew they’d offered me a place, only I wasn’t sure if mum and dad would be able to afford to send me there. But Marlborough said that if I jumped one metre eighty three here, they’d give me a half-fees scholarship. Mr. Cooper never said anything before because he didn’t want to put pressure on me.”

“Fantastic!” I say, grinning at him, “You deserve it; you were amazing today.”

Now I understand why the clearance at one metre eighty three was so important. That’s pretty special; Will is probably the nicest, gentlest kid I’ve ever met and it’s all working out for him.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I’m lying in Will’s bed; it’s twenty five to six, broad daylight at this time of year. We snuggle up together.

“I was so proud of you yesterday,” I whisper, rubbing noses with him. “You were fantastic.”

“Thanks,” he says.

“I guess you’ll really miss Mr. Cooper when you leave,” I say.

“Yeah, of course I will,” he says. “He’s been amazing. But we’ve known all along that this was going to happen, so it won’t be a problem. We have to move on, don’t we? But I’ll always look back and remember how much he did for me.”

“He really cares about you, doesn’t he?” I ask.

“Yes,” he confirms. “He cares about me more than anyone ever has.”

“I finally got that yesterday,” I tell him. “I could see it in his eyes; I never really understood it before.”

“Nobody understands,” he says, “not really. I wouldn’t have done half what I have if he hadn’t been for him.”

“I guess he’ll miss you too,” I speculate.

“Maybe,” he says. “But he’ll probably be too busy helping somebody else.”

“Any idea who that’s going to be?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” he says, “but it’ll probably be Gavin; I know Mr. Cooper likes him a lot.”

“Yeah, but when he looks back he’s going to think, ‘of all the boys I’ve been with while I’ve been teaching, Will Lawrence really stands out’.”

“You’re silly!” he whispers, giggling and giving me a hug. “That would be nice though; I’ll certainly remember him.”

“And it’s not all about sex, is it?”

“No,” he says. “Sex is important and I enjoy it as much as he does, but that’s only part of it.”

“I wish I could have a relationship like that,” I say, “but I don’t think it’d work. I’m not easy going like you; I’m too keen of having my own way.”

“You’re Toby,” he whispers, “and I like you just the way you are.”

“So what would you like me to do for you now?” I enquire.

“You know what I want!” he says, grinning at me.

I know exactly what he wants. He puts his pillow in the middle of the bed, covering it with an old towel. He rolls onto his tummy, legs spread apart, the pillow under his hips. He passes me the KY. He lies there completely motionless as I work the slimy jelly into his bum. I smear a little over my dick before putting the tube on top of his locker. He reaches back, holding his cheeks apart as I get on top of him, his bum-hole opening up invitingly. Man! That is so hot! I guide my dick right onto it. One quick thrust and I’m inside him. He pushes his hips up, taking me all the way in.

“Ooh, Toby!” he breathes. “That’s good, man!”

I settle myself then start to move, quite slowly at first, savouring the warmth and tightness of the velvety sheath gripping my cock. Even though Will’s getting fucked by Mr. Cooper three or four times a week, he still feels pretty tight. My dick’s still not that big, not quite five inches long, and my pubic hair is only just starting to grow, but it’s got quite a bit thicker the past few months. I start to move faster, pulling almost all the way out before plunging right in again, my heart thumping against Will’s back, his warm breath mixing with mine. After a couple of minutes he joins in the action, driving his hips up to meet my downward thrusts. We’re really into it now, moving as one, the intensity building second by second. His breathing shortens, becoming harsh and uneven, a prelude to the inevitable.

“Uhh! Uhh!! Nnnnggg!!!” he gasps.

He shudders violently, his bum clamping tight around my dick. A moment later his watery spunk spurts onto the towel. My only response is to pound into him harder than ever, hardly knowing which planet I’m on. In less than half a minute everything dissolves in a kaleidoscope of flashing lights as I unload over and over deep inside his bum. Man! That was way out! I slowly withdraw. We flop down face to face, wrapping our arms round each other. Our mouths meet in a passionate post-fuck kiss. Wow! I hope I can find a kid like him when I get to Charterhouse.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The last few weeks have flown past; the summer term is almost over and in just over a week’s time I’ll be leaving. Between now and then I’m going to be pretty busy, filming sports day today, playing cricket on Saturday, going to London to edit the film on Sunday morning, showing the film on Monday, Upper Fourth trip to London on Tuesday, Leavers’ Reception on Thursday afternoon; there’s only tomorrow and Wednesday when I don’t have anything on.

This is the third time I’ve filmed sports day, so Mr. Chandler and I pretty well know what to do. I’ve been out filming some of the boys training, you know, trying some new shots, that sort of thing, so I’m hoping this one will be the best yet. One difference this year is that Mr. Cooper’s asked me to feature the shot putt, something I don’t usually bother with. That’s because the competition between Grant and Adam should be pretty special. In one sense it doesn’t matter because they’re in different years; Grant will win the title for Lower Fourth title and Adam will win it for Upper Fourth, but I know they’re very keen to beat each other. Over the past few months they’ve become pretty good mates and they push each other very hard. I’d like to film the discus as well; Marcus should win that and could well break the school record, but I can’t because I’d have to film from outside the cage and you wouldn’t be able to see anything.

We stroll out onto the field. Unlike last year when the whether was a bit ordinary, today is a beautiful summer’s day, just like it was the first time I did this. There are some great performances; I’m just hoping that the footage I’m getting will do them justice. Will’s become something of a school hero these past few weeks. His high jump is little more than an exhibition. He was never likely to jump as high as he did at Brighton; even so he soars over five feet ten to gasps of admiration from lots of the younger boys. His hurdles race is even more of a demonstration. He runs just outside thirteen seconds, which Mr. Cooper says is really fast on grass, and wins by almost two seconds looking absolutely superb. It’s definitely my favourite event to film.

Elsewhere, Alex wins the Lower Fourth long jump title and comes within a few inches of winning the event outright. He looks like he might break the school record next year. Then it’s on to the shot putt. Grant and Adam are really going at it. First Grant sends out a good throw only for Adam to step up and beat it. With his next throw Grant retakes the lead, only for Adam to beat it again. This is great stuff! In the third round Grant unleashes an absolute monster! We wait for the measurement: forty feet and two inches; he hasn’t just broken the school record, he’s absolutely smashed it. I’m glad I was there to capture the moment.

We move on to another event I haven’t filmed before, the fifteen hundred metres. Ashton Hayes has pretty much had it all his own way for the past two years, but this year it could be very interesting; in fact there could be two good races going on at once. In Upper Fourth, Craig’s a more talented runner than Martin, but he’s been playing cricket while Martin’s continued training. In Lower Fourth it will be Evan against Patrick. Evan’s not a cricketer so he and Patrick have been training together all term. I’m guessing that Evan should come out on top because he’ll be able to sprint at the end; I’m not sure if Patrick will.

I thought Martin might try to run away from the rest of the boys right from the start, but he doesn’t. He runs at the front and it’s not slow, but it’s obvious he could run quite a bit faster. After two laps Martin, Craig, Evan and Patrick are still bunched together. Immediately Martin starts to wind it up; after barely another hundred metres the two younger boys have been dropped. Craig’s still tucked in behind Martin, but he doesn’t look comfortable. I’m rooting for Martin, partly because he’s in my dorm, but mainly because I like the way he goes about things; he’s much tougher than I thought he was.

They carry on like that for another lap; they’ve got two hundred metres to go. They round the final bend still locked together. As they hit the home straight Martin makes one final effort. Craig’s got nothing left; Martin wins by almost ten yards. Behind them, Evan gets the better of Patrick much as I thought he would. That was a great race! I’m pretty happy with the footage I’ve got; it’ll be interesting to see how well it comes out. We stroll across to the finish line. Both Martin and Craig have broken the old school record, Martin running four minutes forty three seconds to Craig’s four minutes forty five.

There are just the relay races left. As soon as they’ve finished, Russell’s dad appears.

“Hello, Toby!” he says, greeting me like a long-lost nephew. “Great to see you again!”

“Thanks Mr. Pearson,” I say, smiling. “It’s good of you to come. How’s Russell getting on?”

“Oh, still doing well,” he says enthusiastically. “He had a bit of an injury last November that kept him out for a few weeks, but he’s fine now and moving forwards again. We’re delighted. Call me James; there’s no need for formality.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling almost embarrassed.

“John Halford tells me you’ve got a scholarship to Charterhouse,” he continues. “That’s excellent; they’ve produced some very talented people over the last few years.”

“I’d thought of going to Winchester, but they didn’t want me. Now I’ve thought about it more, I’m don’t think it would have been right for me anyway.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t,” he confirms. “John rang me about that a few months back. I told him the only BBC people I know who went there are accountants and business managers, no creative types at all.”

I swallow hard. Mr. Halford’s saved me from making a right idiot of myself; I’d have hated it. We start heading back to the dark room so that we can unload the film for him to take to the lab.

“I don’t want to sound cheeky,” I say, “but Mr. Halford said you might be able to help me when I’m getting started and to ask for your contact details at the BBC.”

That’s no problem at all,” he says, smiling back at me. “I’ll give you our home details too. You must come round during the summer holidays if you can; Russell would love to see you. As for helping you get started, you’re too young at the moment, of course, but once you’ve done your ‘O’ levels I’ll be able to sort you out a summer job as a trainee runner, working on a film or a television drama. It’s very hard work, eleven or twelve hours a day, and you won’t get paid; you’ll get your meals and that’ll be it. But it’s great experience; there’s no substitute for actually being there and finding out how everything works.”

“Thanks,” I say, I’ll do that.”

His enthusiasm is amazing; I’m really lucky to have met someone like him.

Back in the darkroom we unload the final reel of film and put it with the others in the light-proof box before turning the main light back on. James writes down his contact details and passes them to me.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll ring you when I get back home; see what Russell’s up to. I’d love to come round if that’s okay.”

“Great,” he says, smiling. “Well, must be going! Need to deliver this so Tim can start work on it.”

He shakes hands with me and Mr. Chandler then he’s away.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The four of us stroll across the playing field, Justin, Patrick, Ian and me. After a quick check to make sure that nobody’s paying us any attention we slip into the woods. You might be thinking that a foursome’s on the cards. Well, I did consider it, but I’m not sure Justin would be up for that, and to be honest, right now it’s not really what I want either; I’ve got so little time left to be with Ian I don’t want to waste a second of it. We leave Justin and Patrick disappearing into their hiding place and make our way to ours, about fifty yards away.

“Are you excited about leaving?” Ian asks.

“I’m looking forward to starting at Charterhouse,” I say. “I’m quite excited about that, but not about leaving here.”

“Oh,” Ian says. “I thought you’d be itching to get away.”

“When I first came here, I hated it,” I tell him. “But these days I’ve got a great group of friends, I get on well with most of the teachers, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to do stuff I like. And I’ve got you.”

“And Alex,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, and Alex,” I confirm.

I pull him towards me, bending forwards to kiss him. He wraps his arms round my neck, pulling me right in, our tongues dancing together. We kick off our shoes and begin to remove each other’s clothes, our white polo shirts first, followed by our grey school shorts. I kneel down, skinning his white briefs down his legs. He kicks them off. I lean forwards, taking his hard little bullet into my mouth. I suck it eagerly, opening wide to take his balls in too. He ruffles my hair. I slip my hand between his legs, my finger homing in on his bum-hole. His breathing starts to shorten. I let him go, grinning up at him.

We swap places. In no time my underpants are round my ankles. He plunges down on my cock, sucking it beautifully, his delicate fingers tickling my balls; the sensations are unbelievable. I’m starting to get close.

“Ooh, you’d better stop,” I whisper.

He pulls off and looks up at me, smiling and licking his lips. We get down on the grass. Our mouths lock together, our tongues engaging in a full-scale wrestling match. I run my hands down his back and over his bum, soft and silky smooth to the touch, but so firm underneath. I take the KY from my shorts, squeezing some onto my fingers. He knows what’s coming; he cocks his left leg over mine to make it easier. I push one finger into his bum, finger fucking him till I hit his prostate. I insert a second finger, gently opening him up. He’s ready; I allow my fingers to slide out. I lift his legs. He pulls them right back so his knees are by his shoulders. I lube myself up and get into position.

“Come on, Toby! he says, smiling. “I want your cock!”

I push hard against his bum-hole; after a moment’s resistance my cock slides right in. After a moment to settle myself I start to bum him with long, slow thrusts.

“Oh, yeah!” he says, grinning up at me.

I lean forwards to kiss him. Once again he pulls me in, wrapping his legs round my back, my nostrils filled with his sexy boy smell. Slowly, inexorably, the intensity increases till we’re kissing and fucking like the world’s about to end.

“Oh, Toby!” he gasps.

He shudders from head to toe, his legs flailing wildly. It’s too much.

“Nnng!!” I moan. “Oh, fuck! Aaarrgghhh!!!”

I plunge my whole length into his bum, hanging on for dear life as my spunk floods into him. Man! That is the best! How anyone can not like doing that beats me. We slowly untangle ourselves, flopping down side by side on the grass. I put my arm round his shoulder. He’s been my rock these past two years, always there when I’ve needed him. Nobody could have supported me better than he has.

We lie there, stark naked apart from our socks, just enjoying being together in the warm, late afternoon sunshine. There’s no conversation; it’s all been said. After maybe ten minutes we reluctantly climb back into our clothes; supper’s in less than fifteen minutes and we mustn’t be late. I leave the woods feeling rather sad. It’s just starting to hit me how much I’m going to miss this place. I’ve made some wonderful friends here; leaving them behind is going to be hard, and leaving Ian is going to be the hardest of all.