All the usual disclaimers apply. You simply have to know what that means by now.
The next six snapshots take a quick romp through the Hartswood career of the delightful Patrick Naylor, whom we encountered briefly in Toby’s story. Read and enjoy!
As ever, feedback is more than welcome. Please send your comments to email@example.com and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
HARTSWOOD PRIORY – SNAPSHOT TWO
PATRICK AND FRIENDS PART ONE
It all happened so suddenly. Patrick had spoken to his mum no more than two hours earlier, given her a kiss and a hug before she went to teach her art history class.
“I love you, mum!” he’d said.
“Love you too,” she’d replied before disappearing through the door.
And now she was gone, her car crushed by a truck loaded with gravel that had skidded on the wet road. She’d died instantly. He was sitting in the lounge room of their house, a policewoman holding his hand, explaining what had happened and telling him that he needed to be very brave. He didn’t feel brave; he just felt numb, like it wasn’t really happening. He’d doted on his mum and she on him. He’d inherited her looks, the thick ash-blond hair, the twinkling blue eyes, the ready smile. He’d inherited her talent for the arts too. Drawing, painting, story-writing, music, he loved them all; they were what he lived for.
Sitting there on the sofa he tried to envisage life without her; all he saw was a bleak emptiness. Throughout his ten and a bit years, she’d been there for him; a word of encouragement here, a little praise there, sharing a laugh and a joke somewhere else, all the little things that only seem important when you don’t have them any more.
“And what about dad,” he thought. “What’s he going to do?”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Tom Naylor was intelligent, energetic and industrious. In a little over ten years he’d worked his way up to the position of sales director of a major electrical equipment manufacturer. But he was a world away from the image of the ruthless, driven salesman; considerate and charming, he was possessed of a wonderful sense of humour, a quality that he shared with his wife, and the one thing he seemed to have in common with his son. He received the news of his wife’s death in much the same way that Patrick had, from a burly policeman standing in his office.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, sir,” the man intoned sombrely, “that there has been a terrible accident. Your wife’s car was hit by a truck. She died at the scene; there was nothing anyone could do.”
Tom sat at his desk, trying to take it in, cursing the unfairness of it all. Catherine, his beloved Catherine, had gone, all because of some idiot trucker driving too fast for the conditions, the bright future they should have had together extinguished at a single stroke. So what of the future now? How would they cope, him and Patrick?
They’d never been close; he knew that. Up to that point it had never seemed to matter. He earned a very good salary, more than enough to enable them to live in a large house in one of the smartest parts of town, to run two cars and take holidays twice a year. Catherine, teaching part time at the university, had always been there to provide the support and encouragement that Patrick needed. And with the long hours that he spent at the office, frequent trips abroad and weekends spent playing golf with clients and business associates, he and Patrick saw little of each other.
He had tried, especially when they went on holiday, but Patrick seemed to prefer to spend his time reading or drawing, showing little interest in the rough-and-tumble games that most boys of that age enjoy. So Patrick had gone his own way, and he’d let him get on with it; it was easier all round. He didn’t resent the fact that Patrick’s interests were all the things that Catherine was good at, far from it. He’d encouraged the boy to pursue his talents to the full, and provided the means for him to do so. What he couldn’t do was to feel part of it. So what now? Who would provide Patrick with the help and support he required during his formative years? He couldn’t do it; apart from anything else he didn’t have the time.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The funeral was a sombre, joyless occasion; not a celebration of a life lived, but the mourning of one cut cruelly short. Patrick still felt the same numb emptiness that had been with him since the day his mum died. People came up to him, offering their condolences and support; neighbours, aunts and uncles he scarcely knew, mum’s friends from the university, so many words washing over him. If he heard one more person telling him he needed to be brave for his mum he felt sure he’d scream.
Finally it was over. Tom and Patrick returned to the house, seeming so big and empty now without Catherine’s laughter to fill it.
“Sit down, please,” Tom said, pointing to the sofa. “We need to have a chat.”
Patrick complied, feeling a little nervous; chats like this were usually reserved for occasions when he’d been in trouble. Tom sat next to him, putting his arm around the boy’s shoulder.
“I know how hard this has been for you,” he said quietly. “Your mum was everything to you; I know that.”
Patrick sat silently, not knowing how to respond.
“Well,” Tom continued, “however hard it is, we are where we are. So now we’ve got to work out what to do next. If mum was able to talk to us, what d’you think she’d say we ought to do?”
Patrick took a deep breath. “She’d say we have to face up to the situation and try to make the best of it,” he said, looking at the floor three feet in front of him.
“Good boy,” Tom responded. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she’d have said. So we need to look at what options we’ve got. We don’t have many, and I have to tell you that carrying on as we are isn’t one of them.”
Patrick sat in silence, like the condemned man waiting to hear his fate.
“The first option,” Tom said, “is for you to go and live with Grandad and Grandma Munro,” referring to his late wife’s parents. “I know that they’d love to have you; I’m just not sure how well it would work. They’re both over sixty and Grandad’s health’s not too good. Staying there for a couple of weeks is one thing; living there permanently is quite a different matter. I know they’d do their best, but I’m not sure they could cope with a lively ten year old any more.”
Patrick maintained his silence. He loved Grandad and Grandma Munro too, but he could see what his dad was getting at; they certainly wouldn’t be able to help him the way his mum had done. Tom grimaced. His own parents should have been an option, but they weren’t. His father had died two years earlier, the result of over forty years as a heavy smoker. His mother, a bossy, controlling woman, still lived close by, but would insist on Patrick having his hair cut and a great many other things that the boy wouldn’t take to. Tom himself had left home as soon as he could just to get away from her. If she hadn’t nagged him so much, his dad might have smoked less and still been alive. It was inconceivable that Patrick would thrive in that environment.
“The only other choice is for you to go to boarding school,” Tom concluded. “During the holidays, you’d spend part of your time here with me, and part of it with Grandad and Grandma Munro.”
Patrick was stunned; his dad might as well have suggested sending him to the moon. I mean, he went to the primary school half a mile away. He came home every afternoon and played with his friends. Boys like him didn’t go to boarding school. Then he began to think. Somebody went to those schools and they weren’t aliens from outer space; schools like that wouldn’t exist if nobody went to them.
And he didn’t really like his primary school. Oh, it was in a good area and he did well in class, but there were still bullies around, including boys from homes even posher than his. Rather than deal with the situation, the teachers preferred to look the other way and pretend it wasn’t happening. But he knew it was; he’d been on the wrong end of it more than once, like the day they tried to crush his fingers under the lid of the piano. The teachers brushed that off as just a bit of horseplay. Most of the time he stayed with his friends; they kept the bullies away. But that wasn’t always possible, and that’s when he was vulnerable; he wasn’t able to stand up to them the way that they did. It wasn’t that he was small; on the contrary, at a fraction under five feet he was tall for his age. People who didn’t know him often took him for eleven or even twelve. It was just that he was useless at all physical contact sports, fighting included. So going to boarding school might not be such a bad idea after all. But of course, there might be bullies there too.
“I don’t know,” Patrick said quietly. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Over the last few days while I’ve been off work, I’ve been asking around,” Tom said. “Most of the schools wouldn’t suit you at all, but I think I might have found one that would do pretty well. It’s called Hartswood Priory. It’s in Sussex, just over an hour’s drive. Summer term ends in a couple of weeks. I was thinking that one day next week we could have a drive down there, take a look around.”
He paused, drawing the boy a little closer. “You don’t have to go there if you don’t want to.” he whispered.
“What about bullying?” Patrick asked.
“Bullying?” Tom responded, taken aback. “It’s not something that’s ever worried you before.”
For an instant Patrick thought about brushing it off, but knew it wouldn’t work. It was time to open up. Tom listened, anger building in his chest. He almost asked the boy why he hadn’t told him before, but stopped himself. Patrick hadn’t told him because he hadn’t been there to tell, and he hadn’t told his mum because she’d have been worried. So he’d done what most boys do in that situation, bottled it up and got on with things as best he could.
“Well, if that’s what’s been going on I want you out of there in any case,” he said firmly as Patrick finished his story. “I’ve never been impressed with that school; most of the work they give you is far too easy. It’s never mattered before because your mum more than made up for it, but with her not here, I don’t want to see you just drifting along.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m not surprised that Carl Rogers has been behind the bullying either,” he said vehemently. “He’s a spoilt brat; his parents let him do as he likes.”
He gripped Patrick by the shoulders, turning the boy to look him right in the eyes. A momentary wave of sadness swept over him. He couldn’t look at Patrick without seeing Catherine; they were so alike. Just as quickly he snapped himself back to the present.
“Well, mister,” he said, smiling at his son. “I think this might be time for a fresh start, don’t you?”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
By the following day it was all set. They’d drive to Hartswood the following Wednesday. They’d be meeting the deputy head, Mr. Halford, at eleven o’clock. After that they’d be given a tour of the school then stay for lunch. In the afternoon they’d be able to observe whatever lessons and activities they wanted to see. Patrick looked forward to the visit with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. What would it be like? Would the boys all be really posh and snobbish? And what about all the other stuff, like sleeping in dormitories, having showers together, all of that. And what about the food? Although he was very slim he ate like a horse; he’d hate it if the food was horrible. Questions, questions, so many questions!
The day dawned bright and sunny. At half past nine they were on their way, Tom’s Jaguar purring along the road. There wasn’t much conversation; Patrick was too nervous and too excited to say much. Losing his mum had been the worst experience of his young life, but now a whole new world was opening in front of him, a world he’d scarcely been aware of. Tom followed the directions meticulously as they led him out into the country.
At quarter to eleven he turned the Jaguar in through the gates. At the end of the long drive was what had clearly been a large, imposing country house to which some newer parts had been added. Extensive playing fields stretched away to their left. Patrick was spellbound; he’d never seen anywhere like it. Could he really be coming to a place like this? As they got out of the car he soaked in the atmosphere. Wow! That was all he could think of: wow! They made their way in through the large oak door. A sign in front of them said ‘Reception’. They went to the window and Tom rang the bell. A few seconds later the window opened.
“Good morning,” he said politely. “My name’s Tom Naylor and this is my son Patrick. We have an appointment with Mr. Halford at eleven o’clock.”
“I’ll let him know,” replied the lady on the far side of the glass.
They sat on the large red armchairs waiting for Mr. Halford. Patrick looked around at the high, oak beamed ceiling and the oil paintings on the walls. The place had an air of tranquillity that Woodthorn Primary never had. It was hard to take it all in. A man was striding towards them, around six feet tall, broad shouldered, with dark wavy hair just beginning to go grey. Tom judged him to be in his early forties, a few years older than himself. They stood up as he approached.
“Mr. Naylor?” the man enquired. Tom nodded. “John Halford; I’m the deputy head here. And you must be Patrick,” he continued, smiling at the nervous looking boy. “Let’s go to my office.”
As they followed him along the corridor, Patrick saw some of the boys for the first time. They were all wearing shorts. The boys at Woodthorn only wore shorts on hot summer days, and not all of them even then. He hadn’t worn shorts to school since the previous year; he no longer had any that would fit him. It seemed odd at first, but somehow the boys looked good dressed like that, he decided, smart but casual, their grey shorts complemented by white polo shirts. A few of them had their hair as long as his; he could certainly live with that.
Mr. Halford’s office was airy and comfortable. Patrick sat quietly while Tom explained the circumstances leading up to their visit. When Tom had finished, Mr. Halford turned to Patrick.
“First let me say how sorry I am to hear about your mum,” he said gently. “Let me also say that you won’t be the first boy to come here in circumstances like that; in the twelve years that I’ve been here there have been several. We’ll give you all the support we can to help you get through it and settle into your life here.” He paused and looked and the slender boy in front of him. “So, Patrick,” he continued. What are the things that you like, what things are you good at?”
“I read a lot,” Patrick said, “and I like writing stories. I like drawing and painting; I think I’m pretty good at them. And I like music. I play piano and guitar. I’m up to grade five on piano and grade three on guitar.”
“My wife taught history of art at the university,” Tom explained. “He gets all this from her; I’m useless.”
“Very good,” Mr. Halford said, nodding sagely. “Sports?”
“Not really,” Patrick responded, giving him a shy smile.
“That doesn’t matter,” Mr. Halford said, smiling. “Sport is an important part of what we do here, as it is in every prep school, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. We try to encourage excellence in every sphere, sport, music, art, drama and whatever else, in addition to the usual academic subjects of course. We teach the boys to value high achievement, whatever form it takes.”
“That’s very good to hear,” Tom says. “What do you think, Patrick?”
“Yeah,” Patrick said, almost in a whisper.
“Patrick’s concerned about bullying,” Tom continued. “It seems there have been a few incidents at his present school. I only found out last week. That’s another reason I’m keen to move him. So do you have bullies here?”
“There are potential bullies here,” Mr. Halford said, smiling. “You’ll find those in every school. Our policy is very simple; we don’t tolerate bullying. It’s our job to enable the boys to make the most of whatever talents they have; that’s what parents pay us for. A boy won’t be able to perform to the best of his ability if he’s being bullied, so it’s my job to make sure it doesn’t happen. So what sort of bullying was it?”
Rather tentatively Patrick described the incident with the piano lid. Mr. Halford sat in front of him, a very stern look on his face.
“And the teachers didn’t do anything about it?” he asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “They said it was only a bit of horseplay and there was no damage done.”
“That’s appalling,” Mr. Halford said, turning to Tom. “a complete abdication if responsibility. I can tell you quite categorically that nothing as blatant as that would ever happen here.”
“So why’s that?” Tom asked, keen to press the point.
“Let me explain,” Mr Halford said, leaning back in his chair. “This is a closed community of one hundred and fifty boys. The bush telegraph is very strong. They might not do it in front of witnesses, but within half a day the story would be all round the school. That means I’d get to hear about it. So I’d go and find a couple of my moles, not snitches, I wouldn’t want that, but boys who’ll always tell me what’s been going on as long as I ask the right questions. Five minutes later the perpetrators would be on this carpet, and by the time I’d finished with them they wouldn’t be able to sit down for two days. Every boy in this school knows that’s what would happen, so they wouldn’t even try it.”
Patrick smiled, feeling reassured; Mr. Halford was the sort of teacher that kids just don’t mess with.
“Okay,” Mr. Halford said, “Any more questions?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tom said. “Patrick?”
Patrick shook his head.
“Right, let’s take you round the school.” Mr. Halford said brightly.
He went to the door and popped his head out. A fair-haired thirteen year old followed him back into the office.
“This is Russell,” Mr. Halford said. “He’ll take you round. He’ll do it much better than I could; this way you get to hear what it’s like straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Patrick sat there open-mouthed; in his short grey shorts and white polo top with several flashes on it, Russell was the most stunning looking boy he’d ever seen. His penis stiffened in his briefs. That had been happening quite often over the previous few months though he had no idea why.
For Patrick, the tour was overwhelming. Everything about this place was so much better than it was at Woodthorn, and Russell explained it all perfectly. He spoke well but wasn’t in the least bit posh, just really friendly. Patrick was completely captivated by him, his penis becoming harder than ever. He might not be much good at sport, but Russell clearly was; the flashes on his shirt bore testimony to that. One bore the word ‘Cricket’ another the word ‘Rugby’ and a third the word ‘Athletics’. Next to the one saying ‘Cricket’ was a fourth one bearing the word ‘Captain’.
“Don’t worry about getting bullied,” Russell said quietly. “It’s really not a problem.”
He glanced over at Tom, who was examining some of the art exhibits, then guided Patrick a few feet in the other direction.
“If you find yourself an older friend,” he whispered, “one of the boys in Upper Fourth, you won’t have a problem at all; nobody will go near you.”
Patrick was completely taken aback; he really didn’t understand what Russell was on about, but it was obviously something he hadn’t wanted his dad to hear, so he couldn’t ask. The idea of a boy in Upper Fourth wanting to be friends with him didn’t make sense; it sounded very exciting though.
“Can we see the dorms now?” he asked.
“Sure!” Russell said, smiling. “I’ll take you to the lower school dorms first. That’s where you’ll be if you come here.”
He led the way upstairs and opened the first door they came to. The room was bright and airy, tidy but with a welcoming, lived-in look to it, pale blue walls offset by brightly coloured bed covers. It was nice, Patrick thought; much better than he’s expected. They followed Russell across a quadrangle into one of the new parts of the school. Russell led them into another room, even brighter than the first one, the posters on the walls clear evidence of the presence of young teenage boys.
“This is my pit,” Russell said, jumping onto a bed occupied by a large, well-worn teddy bear. He picked it up. “This is Hercules,” he said, smiling. “I’ve had him since I was four. He goes everywhere with me.”
Patrick giggled; he just couldn’t help it. Russell had a teddy bear called Hercules. That was so cool! Tom sat down next to Russell, leaving Patrick standing in front of them, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful young teen half sitting and half lying on the bed.
“So d’you mind if I ask why you came here?” Tom said quietly.
“Dad’s a drama producer at the BBC,” Russell said casually. “We live in Notting Hill, which is great for where he works, and we’ve got a really nice house, but the schools round there are pretty rough, so mum and dad scraped together the money to send me here.”
“And is this your final year?” Tom continued.
“Yes, I leave a week on Friday.”
“And where will you be going in September?”
“I’ve been lucky,” Russell said quietly. “I’ve got a scholarship to Millfield. Mum and dad wouldn’t have been able to send me there without one; the fees are astronomical.”
Both Tom and Patrick were impressed; Russell hadn’t mentioned his own achievements once. The bell sounded for lunch. Russell led the way to the refectory. As they entered, a dark haired boy approached them, a fraction taller than Russell but much slimmer, his long, slender legs making his shorts look even shorter.
“This is Callum,” Russell said, introducing them. “We’ve been friends since the day we started here.”
Patrick felt almost dizzy. Callum wasn’t as stunning as Russell, but he was very good-looking none the less. They were like a pair of young gods; he had to stop himself staring at them.
Tom and the three boys ate lunch together, chatting about this and that. The food wasn’t his mum’s home cooking, Patrick noted, but it was far better than the school dinners at Woodthorn, and the dining room had a relaxed but orderly atmosphere, far different from what he was used to. He’d be happy here; he’d do well, he could sense it. The decision was made; if boys like Russell and Callum came here, it was a place he wanted to be. He gazed longingly at the two young teens, still not understanding what it was that he was longing for, or why he had that tingling feeling in his penis.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was a warm Sunday afternoon in early September the next time that the Jaguar drove through the gates of Hartswood Priory. Patrick’s heart was in his mouth. He’d made the decision to come here; there was no going back now. Two older boys with clipboards were standing near the entrance. They approached one of them, a tall, good-looking boy with wavy ash-blond hair, a badge with his name, Giles Madison, pinned to his sweater. Patrick’s penis stiffened immediately, his eyes fixed to the young Adonis
“Good afternoon, Giles,” Tom said, smiling. “This is Patrick Naylor. He’s starting today in year three.”
Giles consulted his list. “Oh yes,” he said, looking at Patrick, “You’re going to be in Eagle dorm. Just a minute, I’ll get someone to show you the way.” He scanned the melée of boys in front of the school. “Lee, can you come here please!” he called.
A stockily-built boy strode confidently towards them. He was a few inches shorter than Patrick, with short, spiky hair, blue eyes and a very cheeky smile.
“Lee,” Giles said, “this is Patrick Naylor, the new boy in your dorm. Will you look after him please?”
“Hi,” Lee said, smiling and extending a hand. “I’m Lee Sheldon; pleased to meet you. Have you got a trunk?”
“Yes, it’s in the back of dad’s car,” Patrick said quietly.
“Okay, let’s get it then,” Lee said, still smiling. “We’ll take it up to the dorm so you can put all your stuff away. Later on we’ll have to take it down to the trunk store.”
They collected Patrick’s trunk from Tom’s car and took it up to the dorm. They spent the next hour putting his things away, Lee showing him where everything had to go, where the boys’ room was and lots of other routine stuff. Lee was so chatty and bubbly, nobody could ever think of him as a snob. Patrick took to him straight away.
“So why did you decide to come here?” Lee asked.
“My mum got killed in a car smash,” Patrick said quietly. “Dad’s away on business quite a lot; it just seemed like the best thing to do.”
“Sorry, man!” Lee said, the smile now absent from his face, “That’s terrible! Sorry, I didn’t mean to, you know ---,”
“It’s okay,” Patrick said, “and thanks.”
Pretty soon, Patrick’s other room-mates began to drift in. Lee introduced him to each one of them, though at first he found it hard to remember their names. The only one he did pick up on was Simon, a very good-looking boy with mid brown hair and an outstanding summer tan. At quarter to six Tom appeared.
“Well you seem to have everything organised,” he said, “I guess I’d better be going. “Be good,” he concluded, giving Patrick a hug.
“Bye, dad,” Patrick said.
And with that he was gone, Patrick watching from the window as the Jaguar disappeared down the drive.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The first few days passed almost in a blur. There were so many new things to get used to, Patrick hardly had time to think. For all that, he slipped into the routine far more easily than he thought he would. He’d been put in the top group for all his classes. The work was harder than he’d been expected to do at Woodthorn, and the pace much more demanding, but within a few days it felt like he’d been doing it all the time. Playing rugby was not as bad as he’d feared, mainly because several of the boys were just as poor at it as he was. He did his best, and Mr.Cooper, the games teacher seemed quite happy with that.
Even having showers with the other boys didn’t cause him a problem. Without meaning to, he found himself checking the other boys out, but nobody seemed to notice him doing it. He noted that most of the other boys in the dorm were pretty small, much the same size as he was. The exceptions were Simon and a small, slim boy called Deon; it seemed weird that the smallest boy in the dorm had the largest penis. He also noticed was that Simon’s penis got hard almost any time he was naked, but nobody said anything about that, either. The odd thing was that his didn’t, not in there.
As things began to settle down, he realised that Eagle dorm was split right down the middle. On the one side were Andrew, Philip, David and Paul. Andrew and Philip were very posh. They weren’t unfriendly but talked incessantly about themselves. Patrick found them boring. David and Paul were much nicer, but spent all their time talking about the latest toys and what presents they’d be having for Christmas, real kids’ stuff. Those four were the ‘good’ boys. On the other side were Lee, Simon and Deon.
Patrick had to decide which group he belonged to. It wasn’t a difficult decision; Lee and his friends were much more fun to be with. Within a few days he found himself gathered with their little group, two of them sitting on Lee’s bed, which was right in the corner, while the other two sat on Simon’s bed facing it. They talked about soccer and a little about rugby. They talked about the latest pop music and television shows. Then their voices dropped as they turned to the main topic of conversation: sex. Patrick sat and listened. He couldn’t understand all the things the other boys were saying, but he understood enough. He could hardly believe that they were sitting there talking about it like that.
“Are you okay with this?” Lee asked quietly. “We don’t want you freaking out.”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Patrick assured him.
From the far corner of the dorm Andrew looked across disapprovingly.
“Don’t worry about them.” Lee said dismissively. “They know better than to say anything.”
“I thought kids didn’t get bullied here,” Patrick said, feeling a little uneasy.
“We’re not bullying them,” Lee countered. “They leave us alone and we leave them alone. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
Patrick had to admit that it was. He sat and listened some more.
“It’s okay for you,” Simon whispered, addressing himself to Lee. “You’ve already got a friend. Man, you got really lucky there!”
The lack of understanding must have showed in Patrick’s face.
“Lee is Giles’ friend,” Simon said by way of explanation.
“I’ve been going with him since last term,” Lee added, “but we haven’t gone all the way yet.”
Patrick still didn’t fully understand, but even so, they were talking about Lee being friends with the boy-god he’d met on Sunday when he arrived. That was exciting! His penis was as hard as iron and straining against his briefs; what Russell had said to him about making friends with one of the older boys was starting to make sense.
“So what d’you do?” he asked breathlessly, his voice little more than a croak.
“They suck each other’s dicks,” Simon mouthed at him from the bed opposite.
Patrick thought he was going to explode. Sucking each other’s dicks! That was when it dawned on him, like somebody had just switched a light on. That was why his penis got hard every time he saw one of the good-looking older boys. That was what he wanted!
“What did you mean about ‘going all the way’?” Patrick whispered.
“That’s when he bums me,” Lee said casually. “He’s put his finger up there, but he hasn’t got his dick up me yet.”
Patrick felt more excited than ever. So if he made friends with an older boy, that’s what he’d do! Maybe not straight away, but he’d do it. It was a bit scary, but very exciting just the same.
“So how did you start, you know ---?”
“I’d been watching him playing cricket,” he said. “Afterwards I got chatting to him. He asked me it I’d like to be his friend and I said yes.”
“Giles is one of the top boys,” Simon told him. “That’s because he’ll be cricket captain in the summer. The other one’s Jeremy, the rugby captain, but he’s already got a boy. You wouldn’t want to go with him in any case; he’s a dickhead.”
Patrick sat on the bed, completely bewildered, hardly able to believe what they’d told him.
“When Deon says he’s going for a piss,” Lee whispered in his ear, “say you need one too and follow him.”
He nodded at Deon.
“I’m going for a piss,” Deon announced, loud enough for the boys in the opposite corner to hear.
“I need one too,” Patrick said nervously.
Both boys got to their feet and headed towards the door. Once on the corridor, Patrick was surprised to find they weren’t heading towards the nearest boys’ room; they were going in a different direction completely. They turned a corner and a minute later they were walking past the science lab. Just beyond it was another boys’ room; Patrick hadn’t even realised it was there. Deon pushed open the door and they made their way inside. The place was deserted. He grinned at Patrick, jerking his head towards one of the stalls. Patrick followed him in like Deon had him on a piece of string.
Deon bolted the door, then opened the clip at the top of Patrick’s shorts and pulled down the zip. He nodded to Patrick, indicating for him to return the favour. Patrick did it like he was on autopilot, Deon’s shorts falling to the floor. Deon put his hand in the back of Patrick’s shorts, pushing them down over his hips. They dropped round his ankles. He tugged at Patrick’s underpants, skinning them down his legs. He reached out, fondling Patrick’s stiff penis.
“Nice little cock!” he whispered. “The older boys will love that!”
Patrick almost choked, the touch of Deon’s fingers the most exciting experience of his life.
“Do mine now,” Deon continued.
Patrick pulled down the smaller boy’s underpants. To his surprise, Deon wasn’t hard, his penis hanging limply over his balls. He reached out and fondled it; it felt good.
“Sit on the toilet,” Deon ordered.
Patrick sat down, Deon’s penis now inches from his face.
“Suck it!” Deon hissed.
Patrick was very nervous; he’d never dreamed that things would advance so quickly. But he didn’t dare say no; the other boys would know he was chicken and not let him join in any more. He held Deon’s penis between thumb and forefinger and took it into his mouth. His apprehension melted away; it didn’t taste bad and it certainly didn’t feel bad. He began to suck it. Deon rocked his hips, his penis hardening rapidly in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick could hardly believe how big it had grown, more than twice the size of his own. Deon held the taller boy’s head, pumping his hips more insistently. Suddenly his body stiffened, his penis jerking wildly between Patrick’s lips. After a few seconds he pulled away.
“Cool!” he whispered, pulling up briefs and shorts.
Patrick followed suit, still scarcely able to believe what they’d just done. Seconds later they were heading back to the dorm.
“Did he do it?” Simon whispered as they resumed their places.
Deon nodded, smirked and licked his lips.
“Cool!” Simon breathed. He leaned across to Patrick.
“You can do me tomorrow,” he continued. “We can help each other out till, you know ---.”
Patrick wasn’t completely sure, but he thought he knew.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Patrick felt more relaxed heading to the boys’ room than he had the day before, this time in Simon’s company.
“None of the older boys will look at you at the moment,” Simon advised.
Patrick didn’t know what to say; it was another statement he didn’t understand.
“All they know is that you’re new and you’ve never been to boarding school before. It would be far too risky. You might go bleating to Mr. Halford that they’d molested you; then there’d be a right stink. But now we know you’re okay, Lee can ask Giles to put the word around.”
Well, it did seem to make some sort of sense, Patrick could see that. They strolled into the boys’ room, into one of the stalls and bolted the door. In a matter of moments shorts and underpants were round their ankles. Patrick couldn’t wait to get started, sitting on the toilet without even waiting to be asked. He leaned forwards, sucking Simon’s hard penis right down to the base. Simon stood motionless. Patrick took the hint, sucking eagerly like he’d been doing it for ages. Without warning, Simon shuddered, his penis coming to life between Patrick’s lips. After a few seconds Patrick let him go.
Patrick thought that this would be the end of proceedings as it had been the day before, but Simon had other ideas, taking Patrick’s place on the toilet and positioning the boy in front of him. Patrick was pretty small, but no less suckable for that. Simon held him round the hips, sucking him greedily, working his mouth all over the hard, swollen object. Patrick could scarcely believe how good it felt. Being fondled by Deon had been pretty amazing, but being sucked was far better than that!
Suddenly his body tingled all over. He felt an irresistible urge to pee. He tried to wriggle free but Simon wouldn’t let him. His penis jerked and throbbed in Simon’s mouth, the most incredible feeling of all. Then it was over. He was gasping for breath. He had to pull away; his penis was so sensitive he couldn’t bear Simon to touch it. Then it started to make sense. Those were the feelings Deon and Simon must have had when he’s sucked them. Wow! he thought. He hadn’t realised it was that good.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
“Take your time, I’ve got something to show you,” Lee whispered as they headed for their evening shower.
Patrick was in the dark again; Simon and Deon seemed to know what it was about; he didn’t have a clue. Still there was only one way to find out. After a couple of minutes the ‘good’ boys trooped out, leaving them on their own. Lee grinned and turned his back to them, his feet well apart. Then he bent down. Patrick couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Lee’s bum-hole was stretched open, the area around it chafed bright red. Giles had done it, gone all the way, bummed him! Wow!
Lee stood up, grinning proudly.
“You did it, man!” Simon breathed, excitedly. “What was it like?”
“Hurt quite a bit when he put it in, but once he got going it was fantastic. He went nuts! He loved it!”
“Have you been bummed” Patrick whispered to Simon, pretty sure he knew the answer.
“Yeah, last year.” Simon told him. “Tim was in Upper Fourth. Upper Fourth aren’t supposed to go with second year kids, but he did. I wanted it anyway. He used to bum me all the time. I loved it! Man, I’ve got to find another boy to do it with.”
It was time to go. They turned off the water and headed out of the shower.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Out on the school field watching the school rugby match, Lee and Patrick stood together, Lee pointing out the different players. Patrick couldn’t remember them all, but a few of them stood out; Jeremy, the team captain, a stocky, dark haired boy who played in the middle of the pack, William, a very slim blond boy who was Jeremy’s friend.
He noticed a tall, slim boy with mousey coloured hair cropped very short. He recognised him without Lee having to say anything.
“Is that Deon’s brother?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Lee replied casually. “Can’t miss that they’re brothers, can you? But they’re totally different; Deon’s not into sport at all; he hates it.
He pointed to a long haired boy, playing in the position that he called scrum half.
“That’s Toby Redman,” he said. “His dad’s a famous heart surgeon. Toby’s mad; he’s always getting caned for things he’s done. Great kid though.”
Patrick watched, fascinated, his penis rock hard again. Toby was the smallest boy on either side, but quick, skilful and very aggressive. He didn’t seem to think twice about taking on kids who were far bigger than he was.
“I think you might be out of luck there,” Lee said, grinning. “From what I’ve heard he’s getting together with this little second year kid, can’t remember his name.”
Patrick was disappointed, but there was nothing to be done. Another boy caught his attention, tall and athletic looking, with short, mousey coloured hair.
“That’s Robert Shearsby,” Lee informed him. “He’s in lower fourth, the same as Toby. He’ll probably be captain next year. But you’ve missed the boat there too; he’s going with Peter Cranham out of Osprey dorm.”
Patrick felt the frustration building. Peter was in all his classes; pleasant enough and not bad looking but nothing exceptional. Why had Robert picked him, he wondered?
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Patrick strolled along the main downstairs corridor. He’d decided not to stay in the dorm, chatting to the other boys the way he did most evenings. It wasn’t that the other boys weren’t friendly towards him, but they still hadn’t fully accepted him; he was still something of an outsider. It transpired that even Deon had been bummed, although the circumstances were surrounded in mystery. Deon wouldn’t tell him about it and neither would anyone else. Patrick knew that things wouldn’t change until he found an older friend, but he’d looked and watched and waited, and absolutely nothing had happened. Perhaps it never would, he thought, and Lee’s little gang would treat him as an outsider for the rest of the year.
But it wasn’t just that. Every time he saw one of the good-looking senior boys his penis would harden in an instant. He was desperate to have the same experiences that Lee was enjoying with Giles, but so far none of the older boys had shown any interest. As he wandered past the maths classroom he could hear voices. He stopped and listened; the voices were coming from the maths store room a few feet further along the corridor. He stood outside the door and listened, his heart pounding. They were boys’ voices and they were talking about sex.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Brian and Jonathan had been very happy to find the maths store unlocked; it was a new place to hide away, and one not supposedly under the control of the obnoxious Jeremy. The rule was that those places were for the use of older boys entertaining younger friends, not for Upper Fourth boys to have sex with each other, so he’d been thoroughly awkward about it. And as they weren’t in the same dorm, getting together after lights out wasn’t an option. The problem was that now they were safely ensconced, there was a difference of opinion as to what they were going to do.
“Come on, Jon,” Brian pleaded. “I’ve had nothing since we got back. You like being bummed; you always have before.”
“Why do I never get to be on top?” Jon countered.
“I haven’t taken it for over a year,” Brian reminded him. “You have.”
That was true enough; Jonathan had to admit that. He’d been the friend of Henry Jarvis, last year’s rugby captain. They’d been together for two years. Henry had penetrated him the very first time they got together, and had bummed him remorselessly three or four times a week right up to the day he left. Henry had grown considerably during that time, as boys of that age do; what began as a slim four inches when they first met had developed into a substantial six and a half, which had combined with large heavy balls to deposit copious amounts of thick, creamy fluid into Jonathan’s rectum every time they had sex. Jonathan didn’t mind; he loved Henry and everything about him; more to the point, he loved being fucked.
But Henry had gone now, and Jonathan was desperate to experience the active role. There were other considerations too. As a younger boy, being the friend of one of the star seniors was not just acceptable, it was a badge of honour, a status symbol. But once you reached Upper Fourth, being known for accepting the passive role with one of your contemporaries would get you a reputation, one that he didn’t want. He’d been hoping to find a younger partner; there were plenty of cute boys around, but he was too shy. Plucking up the courage to ask one of them was going to be difficult. But there was still hope; Brian hadn’t found one either, and he wasn’t shy at all.
Brian put his finger to his lips. The room fell silent, both boys listening intently. There were footsteps outside on the corridor. Brian crept noiselessly towards the door, Jonathan in his wake.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Patrick listened excitedly, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Then the conversation stopped. He should have recognised the warning signs but failed; a couple of seconds later, the store room door flew open and two boy-gods were standing there looking out at him. He looked back at them, fearful of what might happen next. The boy in front was a few inches taller than he was and quite well built, with long fair hair just a little darker than his own. The other boy was a little taller and much slimmer, with long, slim legs and brown, almost black hair. Although he couldn’t remember their names he was sure he recognised them from the rugby match. It hardly mattered. What did matter was that they were both very good looking and both had a hard bulge in their shorts.
“Well, look what we have here!” Brian said, smirking. “What d’you think, Jon?”
“Very nice,” Jon commented.
Patrick stood frozen to the spot, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Were they angry with him for spying on them? It didn’t sound like they were.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come and join us? “Brian asked, smiling at him.
Patrick knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but what was he to do? He stepped inside, allowing Brian to close the door behind him.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” Brian continued.
“Yes,” Patrick said.
“Patrick; Patrick Naylor.”
“Oh, so you’re Patrick!” Brian said. “An associate of Giles’ little friend, I believe. I hadn’t been able to put a face to the name. I’m Brian.”
“And I’m Jonathan,” the other boy said.
Well, at least Patrick knew their names now, Brian with fair hair and Jonathan with dark hair.
Patrick remained motionless as Brian stood right in front of him, undoing the front of his shorts; they fell to the floor. His underpants quickly followed. Brian lifted up the younger boy’s shirt.
“What d’you think?” he asked, addressing himself to Jonathan.
“Just what we were looking for, I’d say,” Jon said, smiling.
“Here’s what I have in mind,” Brian said quietly, running his hands down Patrick’s back and over his silky-smooth bum. “You can have sex with both us, one at a time. Afterwards, you can choose which of us you’d like to be your friend. You can even say you don’t want either of us, but I don’t think you will. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Patrick croaked, his mouth as dry as sandpaper.
“So why don’t you find out what we’ve got for you” Brian asked, smiling.
Patrick knew what to do. He began with Brian, quickly lowering the older boy’s shorts and tugging down his briefs. Brian’s penis was a little over four inches long, but much thicker than the others he’d seen. His balls were bigger too and they hung down low instead of being pulled up tight in their sac. Simon had explained what that meant.
He moved onto Jonathan. Jon’s penis was about the same length as his friend’s but much slimmer, no thicker than Deon’s, Patrick estimated. His balls weren’t that big either. He’d start here, he decided; it would be easier, more like what he was used to. He got onto his knees, taking Jon’s stiff pole into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, the older boy stroking his hair. He hoped he was doing okay; Jonathan seemed to be enjoying it.
“Why don’t you try mine now?” Brian asked.
It wasn’t what he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to object. He shuffled around, opening his mouth wide to swallow Brian’s erect penis. Within a few seconds he found it wasn’t a problem at all; he could suck Brian as easily as the other boys he’d been with. Up that close, he noticed a few tiny hairs that had just started to sprout.
“Very good!” Brian cooed, ruffling Patrick’s thick blond hair. “Your friends been teaching you, have they?”
Patrick stopped and looked up. “Yes,” he admitted. “Simon and Deon.”
“Ah, Simon,” Brian sighed. “Very cute, but soiled goods, I’m afraid.”
“Soiled goods?” Patrick questioned.
“Last year he was getting fucked senseless by a boy called Tim Westlake,” Brian informed him. “Still, I guess he’ll find someone eventually.”
So that was why Simon hadn’t found an older friend, Patrick reflected; they want boys who’ve never been with anyone before.
“You can get up now,” Brian said. “There’s no need to rush.”
Patrick got to his feet. “Are you in the rugby team?” he asked.
“Yes,” Brian said. “I play centre and Jon’s right wing.”
“Oh, I remember the blond kid who played on the left wing,” Patrick told them.
“William; he’s useless,” Jon commented. “He’s only in the team because he’s Jeremy’s fuck.”
“Mr. Cooper’s too, if you believe the rumours,” Brian added, grinning wickedly.
Patrick was shocked. “You mean ---?”
“Oh, don’t worry, William likes it,” Brian said soothingly. “He won’t come after you.”
“Do any of the other teachers, you know ---?”
“Mr. Burman, the music master,” Brian says. “He goes with Leo Johnston, a boy in our year, brilliant musician, plays the trumpet. You don’t have to worry about that, either. Leo keeps him very happy.”
Patrick fell silent; it was a lot to take in all at once.
“You really are very cute,” Brian whispered, stroking Patrick’s bum and fondling his penis, “beautiful little cock!”
“Thanks,” Patrick said, giving the older boy a shy smile.
“We understand that Giles’ little friend lost his cherry a few nights ago,” Brian continued.
“Yes, I know,” Patrick confirmed. “He showed us.”
“Oh he did, did he?” Brian said, suppressing a giggle, remembering the day two years ago when he’d done exactly the same thing. “So is that what you want?”
Patrick swallowed hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen either; it was something you built up to, just like Lee had. But he did want it. Every night since Lee had told him about what Giles did he’d been inserting a wet finger into his bum. The feelings had been amazing. He couldn’t say no; he wanted it so much it almost hurt.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Sure?” Brian asked. “It will hurt when it goes up. You can just suck us off if you like.”
“No, it’s okay,” Patrick confirmed.
“I got bummed the first time I did it,” Jon said quietly. “It was fantastic.”
Brian retrieved a pillow from its hiding place behind a few boxes and placed it on an old desk.
“Very careless of Mr. Thompson to leave this place open,” he commented. “Very handy though. Make yourself comfortable.”
Patrick positioned himself over the desk, his chest resting on the pillow.
“You go first,” Brian said, passing Jon a tube of gel. “It’ll be easier for him.”
Jon moved in behind the younger boy, squeezing some gel onto his fingers and gently working it into Patrick’s tight little bum. He touched the younger boy’s prostate, causing his penis to twitch sharply.
“Ooh!” Patrick moaned breathlessly.
Jon pushed a second finger in.
“Aagghh!” Patrick whimpered.
“Easy,” Jon cooed. “Just relax; you’re doing great.”
He withdrew his fingers, moving in close. He pressed the head of his penis against Patrick’s hole.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Push out like you’re having a shit.”
Patrick complied. A second later, half Jon’s penis was inside him.
“Ohhhh!” he gasped, stung by the sudden sharp pain.
“Good boy!” Jon whispered, holding his position to allow Patrick to get used to him being there.
The pain slowly subsided. Jon held him around the top of his legs, gradually drawing him further and further onto his penis; it struck Patrick’s prostate.
“Ohhh!!” Patrick moaned, his own penis twitching even harder that it had the first time.
There was barely an inch to go. Jon tightened his grip and pushed harder, his tummy colliding gently with Patrick’s bum.
“You’re beautifully tight!” Jon breathed, remembering the night that Henry had said that to him.
Patrick grimaced; it still hurt, but less than it had. After a few seconds, Jonathan began to move within in him, the older boy’s penis thrusting back and forth in steady, rhythmical strokes. Within a short time the pain was forgotten, overtaken by intense feelings of pleasure, his penis twitching every time the invader touched that hard, knobbly spot inside him. His quiet moans and squeaks spurred Jonathan to even greater efforts; in less than a minute his body was overtaken by wild, crazy spasms. He held on tight as his penis swelled and jerked deep inside Patrick’s slim body. For a time he stayed right where he was, savouring the moment. He’d taken the boy’s virginity, just as Henry had taken his two years previously. Unless Patrick chose him, he’d never be able to tell, but he’d know, and Brian and Patrick would know; that was what mattered.
Slowly and gently he withdrew, his penis leaving Patrick’s bum with a quiet pop. Brian stepped up to replace him. Patrick’s bottom was a little red, but nothing to be concerned about. After all, Jonathan wasn’t that big and it looked like he still hadn’t cum. He guided his well-lubed penis onto the younger boy’s waiting entrance and gave one hard thrust.
“Aaarrgghh!!” Patrick squealed, struggling to hold back the tears, the pain far more severe than when Jon had entered him.
“Easy, Easy!” Brian encouraged, worried that the boy’s cry might easily have been heard by someone passing along the corridor.
He paused for several seconds, savouring the tight, velvety sheath that was gripping his penis.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
Patrick nodded his assent, wondering how it would feel when Brian began his assault in earnest. He didn’t have long to wait; backwards, forwards, in, out, harder, faster, the intensity building with every stroke, Brian’s penis bringing him to heights of pleasure he could have never imagined. Brian closed his fingers around the boy’s hard spike, caressing it lovingly. Without a moment’s warning, Patrick bucked like a wild animal, his bottom jamming tight around the older boy’s thrusting penis. His own boyhood sprang into life, swelling and jiggling until it became so sensitive he had to push Brian’s hand away. Three, four, five more times Brian pounded into his new young friend, his breathing becoming harsher with every stroke. Everything dissolved into a blur of lights and colours. By pure instinct he slammed in one last time. His penis jerked wildly, three little jets of watery semen squirting into Patrick’s rectum.
Brian held his position, just as Jon had done. This was the greatest ever, he decided. He’d dreamed about it for months; now he’d actually done it. And it wasn’t just as good as he’d imagined, it was better, ten times better, maybe even fifty times better. He carefully eased his way out, his penis glistening with a mixture of lube and cum. Patrick’s bum was much redder now, his hole still somewhat open. A small bead of liquid leaked out, dribbling down between the boy’s legs. Brian grinned. Maybe Jon had been the first get his penis in there, but that was his spunk the boy had inside him.
Very gingerly Patrick stood up. His bum was sore, messy too; Brian had cum inside him, just as he’d thought he would. He wondered if he’d make it to the boys’ room before he messed his underpants. None of it mattered; he’d just had the most wonderful experience possible.
“Are you all right?” Brian asked, smiling at him.
“Yes, thanks,” Patrick confirmed. “That was great; I never dreamt it would feel like that!”
“That’s how it was for me too,” Brian continued. “You were fantastic.”
“Incredible,” Jonathan said, smiling warmly.
“Well, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to choose,” Brian said. “Which of us is it to be?”
It might have been a close call. Jonathan was quiet and gentle, his slimmer penis making penetration less painful. But it was no contest. Patrick was completely captivated by Brian’s easy charm and assertive, almost brash self confidence, the intensity of the fucking he’d given him simply the icing on the cake.
“I’d like it to be you, Brian,” Patrick said, smiling shyly.
Brian felt a wave of elation. He and Jonathan were well-matched in many things; sometimes he won, sometimes Jon did, but this was a contest he’d really wanted to win, and win he had.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “You won’t regret it, I promise. You know where the science lab is?”
“Yes,” Patrick confirmed.
“Thursday, the day after tomorrow, meet me there straight after supper, okay? I’ll sort out for us to be there.”
“Okay,” Patrick said. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Oh, I guess you’re going to tell your friends,” Brian said, grinning. “It’s Harper.”
They dressed quickly and made their way out onto the corridor, the older boys turning one way, Patrick the other. He headed for the nearest boys’ room, feeling like he was on cloud nine. In an hour’s time they’d have their evening shower. He’d tell them to take their time, and when the other boys had gone, he’d show them, just as Lee had done. And they’d congratulate him, shake his hand, pat him on the back. They’d ask him who it was and he’d tell them. But most important of all, they’d accept him as a full member of the gang. He was one of them now.