Okay dude, now listen good! If you shouldn’t be readin’ this shit; then you better not, you dig? ‘Cause if you read it anyways and get caught, that’s down to you, man; I ain’t takin’ no responsibility for it, and Nifty ain’t either.

Right that’s got that out of the way! In #23, Mike learned some important lessons; now he has to put them into practice. So read on and enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who’s written to me recently, even the guys who have some serious issues with the story; I’m always happy to take the bad with the good. More feedback is always welcome; please send your comments to pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk and I’ll reply as soon as I can.



They had one more race before the Christmas holidays. The weather was dry, the course fairly flat and firm underfoot; Craig ran superbly, giving Martin no chance to beat him. After the break, opportunities would come, Mike felt certain of that.

Returning after the holiday Mike was not surprised to find that Martin had been out running four times each week, while Craig had only run three times in total. The first Saturday back was county championship day; they were entered to run against clubs and schools from all over Sussex on a course near Burgess Hill, not one that Mike was familiar with.

In the days leading up to the race the weather was mild but showery. They arrived at the course to find that not only was it very hilly, in places it was a complete mud-bath. With Sussex being a largely rural county, the field for the under-13’s race was not large; teams from seven clubs and two schools, including Hartswood, plus a few individual entries, fewer than sixty boys in total. Mike was unsure how high the standard would be, but he knew that the Hartswood boys were running well. If they performed to the best of their ability, they were in with a chance of at least getting team medals. He took Craig to one side.

“I know this isn’t your sort of course,” he said gently. “You may not win, but you’ve got an important job to do for the team, so get stuck in and do your best, okay?”

“Sir,” Craig responded.

Mike moved away, strolling across to where Martin was doing some stretching exercises.

“You’ve got a chance today,” he said. “You’re running better than ever and this course will suit you. Don’t worry about Craig; give it a go and see what you can do.”

Martin nodded but said nothing. A few minutes later they lined up at the start. The gun sounded and they were away. As they ran around the playing field area a group of five boys established themselves at the front, Martin, Craig and three others. After a quarter of a mile they swung left handed and attacked the first climb, the five leaders building a gap ahead of the rest of the field. Mike counted his other runners through. Jaimie was ninth, Patrick thirteenth and John Mitchell nineteenth. It was a decent start.

They disappeared into the woods, emerging a couple of minutes later. The leading group was down to four but Craig was still with them. They headed downhill then ran fifty yards through a quagmire before swinging back across the playing field and out onto a second longer lap. As they climbed back towards the woods the leading group broke in two. Martin and a boy from the Horsham club got away, leaving Craig and a lad from Brighton disputing third place. Mike counted his boys through again; Jamie had moved up to eighth, Patrick to eleventh and John to eighteenth, with the others all well inside the top forty.

The leaders emerged from the woods, the gap back to Craig and the Brighton boy having grown to fifty yards. They hurtled downwards, Martin and the boy from Horsham still locked together. Mike trotted across, shouting encouragement. As they reached the bottom and ploughed through the mud Mike noticed a steely determination in Martin’s face that he’d never seen before, as though the boy realised that this was his chance and was going to make the most of it.

This time they turned right handed, heading uphill again. Mike stood at the bottom as the rest of the runners came through. Craig was hanging on gamely, still disputing third place with the Brighton lad.

“Well done Craig!” Mike shouted. “Just hang in there; not far to go now!”

Jamie was still in eighth place, but Patrick had moved through to ninth, closing down rapidly on his younger team mate. As long as they kept it going, team medals were assured, Mike reckoned; they might even win it. That would be tough for either Jamie or Patrick; the race was only three to score, so one of them would miss out on a medal, despite having run superbly.

The leaders reached the top of the climb, turning left along the ridge before beginning the long, sweeping descent that would bring them back to the finish. Martin’s opponent finally faltered, no longer able to stay with the relentless pace that the Hartswood boy was setting; within a few seconds Martin was ten yards clear. He powered on remorselessly, crossing the line seventy yards ahead of the Horsham boy. Behind them, Craig out-sprinted the Brighton lad to take third, Patrick completing the count in seventh place, having overtaken both Jamie and the boy in front of him. With a score of only eleven points they’d won the team race by a big margin.

As Mike trotted across to the boys and collected their finishing discs, he was overcome by emotion. The race had presented the team with their toughest test to date, and they’d come through it brilliantly.

“That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Craig gasped, looking totally shattered.

“But you did it; you hung on,” Mike responded. “You showed real guts out there.”

“Well he ran at Stansfield,” Craig explained, still struggling for breath “so I knew I could beat him, but it was much harder here.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, races for the older boys and the seniors, the presentations and finally the journey back to school. Mike was immensely proud of what they’d achieved; none of his own successes as a runner had ever meant as much to him as this did.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The Sunday morning training run was little more than a gentle trot out into the country. It had been a brutally hard race; what the boys needed was to get their legs moving and ease the stiffness out of their muscles. The spirit among the team was right back to where it had been after the Ashdown Relays, but there was one difference; Martin had just become the star runner. Before he’s been thought of as just another member of the team; now he was county champion, and that mattered.

Back in the changing room Mike collected the medals so that they could be presented again at assembly the following morning, something John Halford always liked to do. Before they left, he gathered the younger boys together.

“I can see that some of you lads are rather in awe of Martin after his performance yesterday,” he said quietly. “The thing that I want you to remember is that when he started he was no better than most of you. So stick at it and do what I ask you to do and by this time next year some of you could be running as well as he is.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The following morning, Mike went to the deputy head’s office, taking the medals and the trophy with him.

“That’s a great achievement,” John Halford said enthusiastically. “I’ve seen how much work everyone’s put in. I’m especially pleased to see Martin doing so well; it just shows what hard work can do.”

At assembly John bought the cross-country team onto the stage to present the medals in front of the whole school. He made a point of telling everyone that Martin, who had never been one of the school’s stars, had found something he was reasonably good at, worked hard and achieved something very special as a result. It was the proudest moment of Mike’s life.

At lunchtime, Richard Burman came to Mike’s classroom.

“Well done!” he said warmly. “You’ve worked very hard with those boys; I’m delighted for you. How does it feel, for your boy to achieve something like that?”

“It’s the best feeling in the whole world,” Mike told him.

“And that, dear boy, is why we do it,” Richard said, smiling broadly.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The reaction among the boys was overwhelming; there were congratulations from everyone. Martin went from being one of the school’s mediocrities to being considered as someone to be looked up to and respected; it was a remarkable transformation. Something else happened as well; in class Martin was working harder than ever, and not just in maths, in everything. There was a new found confidence about him, something he’d never had before.

“I hope you’re not going to get big headed,” Mike said gently as they lay snuggled up on his bed.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d let me do that,” Martin said, stifling a giggle. “I mean, it was only a little race I won, wasn’t it?”

“You’re quite right about that,” Mike told him. “You’ve only just scratched the surface of what you’re capable of. But I’m very pleased to see how hard you’ve been working lately; everybody’s commented on it.”

“Well, I sort of understand now,” Martin said. “You know, if I work really hard at something, I can do it, maybe not straight away, but eventually I will.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Mike whispered, drawing the boy into a gentle hug. “You’ve got it exactly. And that’s such an inspiration for the other boys; they think ‘if he can do it, I can do it too’.”

“D’you think I’ll be able to get into one of the good senior schools, sir?” Martin asked.

“I’m sure you can,” Mike responded, “but the important thing is that you’re giving yourself every chance.”

“Actually, sir, I’ve got something to tell you,” Martin said, snuggling closer. “Jamie asked me if he could be my friend.”

“Wonderful!” Mike cooed. “I take it you said yes.”

“You bet I did!” Martin replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Jaime’s great; I never thought I’d have a younger friend.”

“Well just make sure you look after him,” Mike said, stroking Martin’s hair.

“I will, sir,” Martin assured him. “I was wondering, sir; on Sundays could I come here after lunch instead of straight after training?”

“So you and Jamie can get together down in the pavilion?” Mike enquired.

“Yes sir.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Mike said, nuzzling Martin’s ear. “I’m delighted you’ve found someone.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike’s life continued as busily as ever. The cross-country team had recruited a new member. Alan Scott was in Upper Fourth. He’d always trained with the rugby team but hadn’t got a game. Jim Cooper had given him permission to switch. He slotted into the middle of the group, not a star but a useful member of the squad.

The Common Entrance and Scholarship Examinations were approaching rapidly. In a strange way Mike felt under less pressure than he had the year before. The boys were very well prepared; all he needed to do was to make sure that they kept working hard and didn’t get complacent.

The one boy that was causing him problems was Gavin McIntyre; the boy just couldn’t sit still. The only way that Mike could contain him was to give him lots of simple work to do, short exercises that Gavin could do in no more than five minutes without having the think too much. After each exercise Gavin would rush out to have it marked then Mike would give him another one.

It worked to the extent that it kept the boy occupied and stopped him disrupting the other lads, but it was hardly satisfactory. Gavin was bright, but when Mike had tried giving him some more difficult work he had quickly become frustrated and started misbehaving. The boy was a handful; there was no question about it. The paradox was that he was one of the nicest kids Mike had ever met. It seemed that he didn’t mean to be naughty; he just was.

It was Wednesday morning, the period before break; Mike’s third year bottom group class was drawing to a close. Gavin had been bouncing around even more than usual; Mike had been at full stretch to keep the boy in his seat. Mike had noticed something else too; every time Gavin had come out to have his work marked, he’d had a hard bulge sticking up in his shorts. Mike was fascinated. Gavin wasn’t a pretty boy, pencil slim with a shock of unruly sandy coloured hair and a face covered in freckles, but he was precociously sexy. He was the younger friend of Marcus Northam who’d joined the school in Upper Fourth the previous September. Since the incident in with Patrick, Mike hadn’t had sex with anyone but Martin. An occasional assignation with Gavin would be more than welcome.

Gavin rushed to Mike’s desk to have his latest exercise marked. It was untidy but all correct. Mike checked his watch; the bell would go in less than two minutes. He glanced across; the boy still had a raging erection. He didn’t usually set the lad another exercise so late in the class, but Gavin’s poor behaviour more than justified making an exception.

“As you’ve made such a nuisance of yourself today, you can do this,” Mike said, handing the boy another work card. “And I want it finished before you go.”

Gavin hurried back to his desk and set to work. When the bell sounded for break he was barely halfway through.

“Everyone except Gavin may put their books away and leave quietly,” Mike instructed.

The other boys packed up their books and filed out, leaving Gavin behind. A little over a minute later Gavin was striding out to Mike’s desk, a characteristically cheeky grin on his face. Mike checked the boy’s work, which once again was one hundred per cent correct. He looked across. Gavin was tall for an eleven year old, his long, slim legs making his grey school shorts seem even briefer than they did on most of the boys, the hard bulge still very much in evidence. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

“You’ve been very animated this morning,” Mike commented. “Why was that?”

“Don’t know sir,” Gavin said, shrugging.

“Oh, I think I know,” Mike responded. “Come with me.”

He guided the boy into the store room. Standing behind, he put has arm around Gavin’s waist, running his hand over the front of the boy’s shorts.

“You’re a very naughty boy, aren’t you Gavin?” Mike whispered.

“Yes sir,” Gavin responded, turning his head to grin up at the man.

Mike turned Gavin to face him, opening the lad’s shorts. They fell to the floor. Mike dropped onto one knee, quickly pulling down the boy’s underpants, exposing his stiff three inch penis.

“Cute little cock!” Mike cooed, leaning forward to take it into his mouth.

He slipped his hand between Gavin’s legs, gently massaging the boy’s firm, silky smooth thighs, moving slowly upwards until his finger encountered the boy’s anus. He pushed inside. To his surprise, Gavin flexed his knees, allowing the finger to slide right into him.

“You’ve been getting well fucked, haven’t you?” Mike growled.

“Yes sir,” Gavin said.

“Well, why don’t you find out what I’ve got for you?” Mike asked, getting to his feet.

Gavin undid Mike’s belt and the front of his trousers before kneeling down to pull down the man’s jockey shorts. He ran his fingers over Mike’s rampant penis.

“Wow, sir!” he gasped, his eyes widening. “It’s even bigger than Mr. Cooper’s!”

“I don’t think you should have said that,” Mike said, smiling.

“Why not, sir?” Gavin queried, giggling. “I mean, you’re not going to say anything, are you?”

Mike allowed himself a chuckle; the boy was right of course. It wasn’t too much of a surprise; Gavin was one of Jim Cooper’s protégés, an obvious candidate for being the games master’s ‘bit on the side’.

“Suck it!” Mike ordered.

Gavin complied readily, pushing further down each time until his nose was pushing into Mike’s golden pubes.

“Good boy!” Mike breathed, revelling in the sensations that Gavin was providing.

“I love big cocks,” Gavin said, giving him a cheeky grin. “Are you going to bum me?”

“Of course I am!” Mike responded.

He helped the boy to his feet, positioning him over the desk. He took the tube of KY, squeezing some onto his fingers. He pulled Gavin’s cheeks apart, the boy’s anus showing all the evidence of frequent penetration. He slid in one finger, then two.

“Come on sir,” Gavin groaned. “I want your cock!”

Mike quickly moved into position. With one hard thrust he entered the boy, his penis spearing right into him.

“This is what you get for being naughty, isn’t it Gavin?” he breathed.

“Oh, yes sir!” Gavin moaned. “Oooooh!!”

The maths master set to work, determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity. Despite all the action he’d been getting, the boy was still beautifully tight; the sensations were exquisite.

Gavin whimpered quietly. Mike’s penis was the largest he’d taken, opening him up even further than Jim Cooper’s had done. It slammed repeatedly over his prostate, the combination of pain and pleasure so intense he hardly knew where he was. After a couple of minutes, the man’s fingers wrapped themselves around his throbbing cock, gently masturbating him.

“Ohhh, sir!” he gasped, bucking wildly, his sphincter clamping tight around the man’s thrusting penis.

A moment later his cock sprang into action, swelling and jerking in the man’s hand.

“Oh yes!” Mike rasped, his breathing harsh and ragged. “Now take my spunk!”

He gripped Gavin around the hips as several ropes of thick creamy semen spurted into the boy’s bottom. After several seconds he gently withdrew. Gavin quickly dressed himself as though nothing had happened.

“So when d’you see Mr. Cooper?” Mike asked.

“Tuesday mornings sir,” Gavin told him.

“Before breakfast, I suppose,” Mike said.

“Yes sir,” Gavin confirmed. “I have to get to his office for ten past seven.”

“Very good,” Mike said. “Well Thursday mornings you’ve got an appointment here, same time, starting tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be here sir,” Gavin assured him.

Mike stood and watched as Gavin made his way out, heading towards the toilets with semen seeping into his underpants.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Gavin’s Thursday morning visits quickly became part of Mike’s routine. The first time that the boy arrived he was surprised to find him wearing gym shorts instead of underpants; it was a bonus he hadn’t expected. Although he was totally dedicated to Martin, having a sexy boy like Gavin, and being able to fuck him in his little white shorts, certainly spiced things up, even if it was only once a week.

He was tempted to take things further, to invite the boy to the apartment, give him a pair of the cotton shorts to wear and fuck him in those, maybe even have a threesome with him and Martin, but he decided against it; he couldn’t afford another mistake. Gavin would be his bit on the side, just as he was for Jim Cooper.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The examinations were over. The scholarship boys still had ‘O’ level maths to tackle in the summer, but for Upper Fourth the pressure was off. Even so, Mike kept them all working, determined to ensure they were as well prepared as possible for what they would face at public school.

The cross-country team had one further challenge to face, the annual Prep Schools’ Championships. Everything was in place. Each school was allowed up to six runners, the positions of the first four to finish determining the score. With Martin, Craig, Patrick and Jamie all running well, it was the format that suited them best; Mike reckoned that they could challenge for medals if they all ran well.

With just over a week to go, disaster struck. Jamie got the flu. It wasn’t just a heavy cold; it was definitely the flu; he was confined to bed and had to be moved from his dorm into the school infirmary, which was a very rare occurrence. Even if he was up and about by the time of the race, there was no possibility that he’d be able to run.

It was a major disappointment. Martin and possibly Craig might still challenge for individual honours, but in a race with over three hundred runners, John Mitchell, their next best runner, was likely to finish at least fifty places behind where Jamie would have been, which would put team medals out of reach. At morning break Mike wandered along to the staff room and slumped in a chair feeling thoroughly dejected. He’d put on a brave face for the boys, encouraging them to finish as high up as they could, but it should have been so much more.

A few minutes later, Jim Cooper strolled in, sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay?” he enquired. “You look like you’ve got the troubles of the world on your shoulders.”

“Not really,” Mike said, giving him a wry grin. “Just a bit disappointed, that’s all; we’ve lost Jamie for the Prep Schools’ Championships. I thought we might have challenged for medals, but we’re not going to do that without him; John Mitchell’s our next best and he’s not in the same league.”

“Hmm, that is disappointing,” Jim said sympathetically. “When’s the race?”

“Next week, Wednesday afternoon; Jamie may well be up and about by then, but he definitely won’t be fit enough to run.”

“You can borrow Evan Williamson,” Jim suggested. “He won’t let you down and it’s obviously not depriving anyone else of a place.”

“Will he want to do it?” Jim asked. “I don’t know him that well; I wouldn’t want him to think he was being dragooned into it.”

“He’ll jump at the chance,” Jim said, smiling, “and he can run all day. In the last ten minutes of a match when everyone else is tired, he’ll still be running as fast as he was at the beginning.”

“But haven’t you got another rugby match on the Saturday after the race?” Mike asked.

“Yes, but you needn’t worry about that,” Jim said. “We’ve done our work; the team’s not going to improve in the last week of the season. I’ll let him off training Monday and Tuesday to make sure he’s fresh for the race. He’s as tough as they come; he’ll be fine again by the Saturday.”

“Thanks Jim,” Mike said quietly. “I really appreciate you helping us out like this.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After Mike’s next Lower Fourth top group class, Evan and Patrick came to see him.

“Mr. Cooper’s spoken to me sir,” Evan said, “about running in the Prep Schools’ Championships.”

“So would you like to do it?” Mike asked.

“Yes sir!” Evan said, his eyes lighting up. “I never thought I’d get a chance to run in anything like that! Patrick says it’s going to be a really big race.”

“Very big,” Mike confirmed, “sixty odd schools and around three hundred and fifty runners.”

“Wow!!” Evan said, grinning at Patrick.

“Evan’s really good sir,” Patrick said enthusiastically. “When we had the trial race before you started the team, Evan won it by miles!”

“But you’ve improved a lot since then,” Evan said. “I’m not sure I could beat you now.”

“Jamie and Patrick usually finish quite close together,” Mike said gently, “So you can use Patrick as a marker; if you can run with him you’ll do okay. The important thing is that you don’t go off too fast; if you do you’ll really suffer.”

“Sir,” Evan asked, frowning slightly, “I’m not taking a place off somebody else, am I? You know, one of the regular runners.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Mike said, smiling. “Mark Anderson was first reserve and I’ve already had a word with him about it. He’s more than happy for you to run.

“Thanks sir,” Evan said, grinning again.

“Okay, off you go!” Mike said. “You’ll be late for your next class.”

The two boys made their way out looking like they’d just become best friends. Mike smiled to himself; it was good to see that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The weather on race day was set fair; moderately warm, watery sunshine and very little wind. The race was to be held on a course in Buckinghamshire. It was a good two hour drive, much the furthest they’d travelled. They were joined for the trip by Justin Armstrong and Toby Redman. They’d asked Mike’s permission a couple of days earlier. Mike had agreed on the proviso that they worked as the team’s bag men, transporting tracksuits and training shoes from the start to the finish. In truth he was pleased to take them along. They were both members of his scholarship class, a task at which they had both worked tremendously hard, and he knew that Patrick would appreciate having his older friend there to support him. With Jamie fit to travel though not to run, the minibus had its full complement of fifteen boys.

They arrived at the course just over an hour before the race. They would run two laps of about a mile each. The course had a bit of everything, some fast running, a stream crossing, one really muddy section and two major climbs, a long steady one away from the start and a short, steeper one later in the lap. During the build-up to the race Mike tried to stay as relaxed as he could, determined not to let the boys see how tense he was. Toby and Justin did their job to perfection, staying in the background and allowing the boys in the team to focus on the task ahead.

With a little over five minutes to go they made their final preparations. Evan was using Aaron Starmer’s spikes because the ones he’d worn the previous summer no longer fit him. Mike made sure that they were on firmly; he didn’t want the boy losing a shoe in the mud.

“Two minutes!” the starter boomed through his megaphone.

Mike checked that all the boys had their competitors numbers properly attached before they lined up in their pen, Martin, Craig, Patrick, Evan, John Mitchell and Alan Scott. As Justin and Toby took the sacks containing the lads’ tracksuits and trainers across to the finish area, Mike ducked under the rope and ran alongside the course, up towards the first corner some three hundred yards from the start. Just as he got there, the gun sounded. The race was on!

As the boys passed him, he could see that Martin and Craig were right up with the leaders, but the field was so tightly bunched it was impossible to see anyone else. He sprinted across the course, heading towards the stream crossing. As the boys ran downhill, he could see Martin and Craig still in the leading group. He spotted Evan running in around thirtieth place, with Patrick more than a dozen places behind. It wasn’t quite the way he’d planned it; he just hoped Evan wouldn’t struggle too badly later in the race.

“Great stuff lads!” he called, shouting himself hoarse. “This is fantastic running!”

As the boys headed onto the shorter climb, he ran through stream, crossing it a few yards to the right of the course, and headed diagonally uphill, aiming the meet them close the top of the descent. He reached his vantage point just as the leaders turned towards him, plunging downhill again. Martin was still right there, Craig now a few yards adrift in sixth place.

“Well done, Martin” he shouted. “Well done Craig! Hang on there; you can do it!”

He waited a few seconds. Evan and Patrick came through much closer together, both in the mid thirties. After a steady start, Patrick was picking up places just like he always did. Evan on the other hand was beginning to slip back. With more than a mile still to run, that was a worry. John and Alan were still running up hill a hundred yards and at least fifty places behind. Mike shouted the boys on then took off again.

The remainder of the race was almost a blur. On the second lap a tall, dark haired lad broke away at the top of the steep climb, opening a gap in what seemed like no time. Martin was still in contention for a medal and Craig, though obviously tiring, was hanging on for a top ten finish. Characteristically, Patrick was edging his way through and was up into the low thirties.

It all depended on Evan. It was clear that the lad was desperately tired, but his guts and determination were seeing him through; with barely half a mile to go he was running just outside the top forty. It was the best Mike could have hoped for. After waiting for John and Alan to come through, he trotted across to the finish area. Martin and Craig were already there, shortly to be joined by Patrick and Evan. He collected their finishing discs; Martin third, Craig tenth, Patrick thirty first and Evan forty fourth. With a score of eighty eight points, they were in with a chance.

John and Alan finally emerged from the finish funnel and wandered across to join the rest of the boys. John had finished a respectable ninety eighth, Alan a somewhat disappointing one hundred and thirty ninth, his lack of training and experience having taken its toll. Mike completed the results envelope sending Justin to hand it to the recorder. As they prepared to leave the finish area, Toby approached him.

“Sir,” he said. “Evan’s legs have gone really tight. We’ve got a big rugby match on Saturday.”

Mike was embarrassed; it was exactly what he’d feared might happen. It had been great of Jim Cooper to let the boy run, but the games master had little idea how demanding the race was going to be; Evan had run himself to a standstill. Getting him right for the final rugby match was now his top priority.

“Have a shower now,” Mike said gently, addressing himself to the hobbling Evan. “When we get back to school I’ll take you to my flat so you can soak in a nice hot bath with plenty of bath salts. Then afterwards I’ll give you a massage, okay? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine by Saturday.”

They made their way slowly towards the sports centre to get showered and changed. Suddenly Martin veered to his right, trotting across to a well-built man who was striding towards them. The man put his arm around Martin’s shoulder, before continuing to head in Mike’s direction.

“Mr Thompson!” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Geoff Greenhall, Martin’s dad. Great to meet you!”

“Thanks for coming,” Mike responded. “I realise you must be very busy.”

“Never too busy for something like this,” Geoff said enthusiastically. “Martin’s last school report was such an improvement on anything he’s managed before, then when he came home at half term and told us he’d won the county championships, well, it was like I’d won the pools! So, I wasn’t going to miss this!”

“You never said you were coming,” Martin said accusingly.

“I didn’t want to distract you before the race,” Geoff explained, still rattling away nineteen to the dozen, “and anyway I was worried something might come up at the last minute so I couldn’t be here; that’s how it is when you run your own business. But I’m glad I made it; cross country’s not my sport but that was really exciting!”

“Well, I’m pleased you came,” Mike said. “It’s great to have parents coming to support.”

“When Martin was younger,” Geoff continued, “I struggled to get him interested in anything; I was really worried about him, but since you came along he’s changed completely. You’ve got through to him in a way I never could and suddenly I’ve got the son I always wanted.” He gave Martin’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m very grateful to you; you’ve done a fantastic job.”

Mike hardly knew what to say; the conversation seeming to have a somewhat surreal element to it. While it was true that Martin had improved tremendously, the fact of the matter was that he’d been fucking the boy around five times a week for the previous six months. It was apparent that his dad had not the slightest inkling of this aspect of their relationship; what he would have thought had he known did not bear thinking about.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Mike responded. “As a teacher, watching someone you’ve worked with really start to fulfil their potential is the best reward you can ever have.”

“D’you think he’ll get into a good senior school?” Geoff asked. “I know he’s left it all rather late.”

“Well, I’m certainly hoping so,” Mike said, “but actually I’m glad you’re here because I wanted to have a word with you about that. One school I know very well is Winsthorpe College. They get excellent exam results and they always have a strong cross-country team; that’s how I know them. I think their junior school has won the team race here. They’re always looking for promising runners; as long as Martin’s done at least reasonably well in Common Entrance, they’ll definitely offer him a place. There’s one problem though; the school’s in north Derbyshire, not far from Sheffield. It’s a long way from where you live.”

“That’s not a problem,” Geoff said, smiling. “I’m from Nottingham originally and my parents still live there, don’t they Martin?” Martin and his dad grinned at each other. “In any case,” Geoff went on, “I trust your judgement; if you think he’d do well there and keep developing the way he has with you, that’s where I want him to be. If I need to get up there, to watch him race or collect him at the end of term, I’ve got a Jag; it won’t take me that long. What d’you think, Martin?”

“Yeah!” Martin responded, smiling up at his dad. “I definitely want to go somewhere I can carry on with my running.”

“Before the presentations I’ll introduce you to their junior school cross-country master, so you can have a chat to him.” Mike offered, “but right now we’re all sweaty and dirty and need a shower. If you wait in the sports hall, I’ll see you in there.”

As they continued towards the sports centre, Mike exchanged a brief handshake with Tom Naylor, Patrick’s dad, another delighted parent. Whether he’d be quite so delighted if he knew about the incident in the apartment, Mike didn’t care to speculate. But it was true that Patrick had done outstandingly well; when it came to racing, the boy was far tougher than he looked.

Back in the changing room Mike began to strip off. It was the first time he’d showered and changed with the boys, but after charging around the course getting muddy and sweaty, he couldn’t face the long drive home without a shower and a change of clothes. For once, getting an erection wouldn’t be an issue. Even though he was surrounded by a couple of hundred extremely cute boys, he was simply too drained, both physically and emotionally. He took off his jock strap and made his way into the showers.

Evan was still there, taking advantage of the plentiful hot water to try and ease his aching legs. Mike had seen the lad after rugby training often enough, but had never really looked at him before. He was around five feet tall and slim, and to Mike’s surprise, his pubic hair was already starting to come in, quite sparse, but definitely growing. It wasn’t what he’d expected.

Mike strolled into the drying area. There were beautiful naked boys wherever he looked, including a few in various stages of arousal; the sights on view could hardly have been bettered. In other circumstances maintaining self control might have been a struggle, but right then becoming erect just wasn’t on the agenda. He finished drying himself and returned to the changing room, dressing in some fresh clothes before rejoining the boys.

On entering the sports hall he immediately spotted Jack Howden, the Winsthorpe cross-country master. He’d been there since demobilisation back in 1946.

“Hi Jack!” Mike said, smiling warmly. “Good to see you!”

“Mike Thompson!” Jack responded. “I didn’t know you were teaching at one of these god-forsaken establishments!”

“Oh I spent five years working in comprehensives,” Mike explained. “If you want god-forsaken, that was it; I didn’t enjoy it at all. I joined Hartswood eighteen months ago. They’d never had a cross-country team before so it took a while to get things going. This is our first time here.”

“Produced any stars yet?” Jack asked, grinning.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. One of my boys won the Sussex under-13’s title back in January and finished third today. He’s interested in moving to Winsthorpe.”

“Is he now?” Jack queried. “So he’s got nothing lined up then?”

“Not at the moment,” Mike said. “Martin’s something of a late developer; twelve months ago nobody would have looked at him, but he’s made great strides since, both with his running and in class.”

“Well, as long as he’s done at least reasonably well in Common Entrance we’d be delighted to take him,” Jack said. “We’re always looking for boys who can make that sort of contribution. He’d have to get used to all the northern accents, of course!”

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” Mike said, grinning. “His dad’s here today; would you like to have a chat to them?”

“Certainly!” Jack said. “I’ll arrange to have some application forms sent out so we can get the ball rolling.”

Mike made the introductions and left them to it. He squatted down on the floor next to Justin and Toby.

“Did you enjoy it today?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was great!” Toby said enthusiastically. “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”

They chatted for nearly ten minutes, Toby asking a whole series of questions, trying to understand more about the sport. It was typical of the lad, Mike reflected; he always wanted to understand what he was doing or what he was watching. Suddenly two boys appeared carrying results sheets. Toby hurried across and purchased two copies. He trotted back and handed one to Mike, a big smile on his face.

Mike checked the sheet; the team had finished in third place. There were scenes of jubilation. Mike was overjoyed; when he’d started the cross-country team he’d never dreamed he’d be able to get them to such a standard so quickly. As an added bonus, all six runners would get a medal, not just the four scorers. It was the first time that John or Alan had won anything. Alan would be leaving in the summer, so it probably wouldn’t matter to him. John, however, had another year, and in Mike’s judgement, he was definitely one that had the potential to come through, just as Martin had done. Winning a medal might be just the stimulus he needed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They arrived back at school at ten past six, later than Mike had expected. They headed straight into supper. Afterwards, Mike took Evan back to the apartment. The boy was walking more freely, but was obviously still sore.

“So what did you think of it today?” Mike asked.

“Oh, it was great sir!” Evan said, smiling up at him. “I just wish I was a bit fitter. I think if I trained I could have made the top twenty.”

“Yeah, that’s probably about right,” Mike agreed, “but you’re an important member of the rugby team and you can’t do everything.”

Up in the apartment, Mike ran the bath, putting in a generous helping of bath salts. Evan giggled as the foam grew prodigiously.

“Right, I’ll leave you to it,” Mike said, smiling. “When you’re ready just dry yourself off, slip on your underpants and come and find me; I’ll be in the living room.”

Mike exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He got everything ready, spreading a large towel over the bed and taking the massage oil from the cupboard. Finally he returned to the living room, sitting on the sofa to read the latest edition of ‘Athletics Weekly’, music playing quietly in the background. Just under half an hour later, Evan reappeared, dressed only in his white briefs.

“So how was that?” Mike asked.

“Great!” Evan said, giving him a big smile. “I’d have stayed in longer but my skin was going all wrinkly.”

“Okay, into the bedroom!” Mike ordered.

Evan lay face down on the bed without Mike having to ask him. Mike set to work, skilfully massaging the oil into Evan’s calves and thighs, gradually easing away the tightness. Evan lay there contentedly. He’d never had a massage before; it felt wonderful, too wonderful in fact; he was becoming erect. His penis was trapped, pointing down over his balls. It was most uncomfortable but he couldn’t move; it would be too embarrassing.

“I might as well do your back and your shoulders while you’re here,” Mike said.

As Mike began to massage his back, Evan raised his hips off the bed. His penis sprang to attention, pointing straight up towards his tummy-button. He settled down again, basking in the experience, the back-massage making him feel better than ever.

His brain was running riot. Over the previous few months he’d become fascinated by the idea of being bummed by one of the masters. He didn’t know why; he just had. He knew it was happening to some of the other boys; he’d wondered endlessly what it was like. He’d become obsessed with the idea, desperate to try it, to find out for himself. It was insane, but he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

Martin was Mr. Thompson’s boy; nobody said anything, but they all knew. He wondered if Mr. Thompson massaged Martin like this before he bummed him. He guessed that he probably did, sometimes anyway. So was Mr. Thompson going to do that with him? The thought made his penis throb uncontrollably.

“Okay, all done!” Mike announced. “Up you get!”

Evan got onto his knees and climbed off the bed. Mike noticed his erection immediately. It was obvious the boy was ready for sex, but Mike rejected the idea. He’d brought him to the apartment to make sure he’d be ready for Saturday’s rugby match; taking advantage of the situation didn’t seem right, even if he just sucked the lad off.

“So how d’you feel now?” he enquired.

“Much better thanks, sir,” Even said. “That was great.”

“You’ll probably stiffen up a bit overnight,” Mike warned. “If you’re still feeling a bit tight come to my room after classes tomorrow and we can give it a second go. Okay, time to get dressed!”

Evan returned to the bathroom, rather disappointed that nothing had happened.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike quite often watched the school’s home rugby matches when his boys weren’t racing, but he’d never been to an away game. On this occasion, however, he had to go; it was, he felt, the best way of thanking Jim Cooper for allowing Evan to run three days earlier.

He wanted to be there to thank Evan too; not only had the boy had performed superbly, he’d got on well with absolutely everybody, it had been a pleasure to have him as part of the team. Evan had returned for a second massage on the Thursday afternoon. Mike wasn’t sure it was really necessary, but he was quite happy to do it. Once again Evan had become aroused and once again Mike had declined the opportunity.

The rugby team was on course for a perfect season, having won every match of the seventeen they’d played. The final match was away at Martlington County Grammar School whom Hartswood had beaten in their home match the previous November. Because of the match’s importance, the school was putting on a supporters’ coach. Mike had volunteered to help with supervision. At nine o’clock he boarded the coach, along with deputy head John Halford, assistant rugby master Andrew Farnham, and approximately fifty very excited boys.

All the boys were convinced that Hartswood would win; Mike was far less certain. Hartswood had won their home fixture, held in wet, miserable conditions, by just five points, with the Martlington place-kicker missing several straightforward attempts at goal. Playing on their own pitch in near perfect conditions, they would clearly be a tough proposition. At best, it was going to be very tight.

His analysis proved entirely correct. Although Hartswood matched them up front, Pascal Donnelly apart, the Martlington backs were bigger, stronger and faster. The Hartswood boys gave it absolutely everything, and Pascal’s goal-kicking and all-round excellence kept the scores close, but in the end it was not enough, Martlington winning 29 - 24.

On the drive back to school, the boys were very subdued, the younger ones especially, disappointed that their heroes had fallen short of their objective.

“You shouldn’t be too disappointed,” Mike said gently, sitting among a group of first and second years. “We didn’t lose because we played badly; we lost because they were better than we were. They have a lot more boys to pick from, of course; that’s just how it is. So don’t lose sight of how well the team’s done this season; they’ve been superb.”

“The cross-country team’s done well too, hasn’t it sir?” nine year old Nicky Franklyn piped up.

“We’ve done okay,” Mike said modestly, smiling at the boy.

Nicky was blond and angelic, with a hint of mischief about him. One day, Mike speculated, Nicky might be his boy, and he’d be putting his penis into the lad’s cute little bottom.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They arrived back at Hartswood at half past twelve. Mike strolled into the refectory with Jim and Andrew. He rarely had lunch there on a Saturday, but on this occasion there seemed no reason not to. Everyone was in good spirits; despite the morning’s reverse, they all had a very successful winter to look back on. After finishing his meal, Mike strolled over to where Evan was still eating.

“So how were the legs?” he enquired, smiling.

“Oh, they were fine, thanks sir,” Evan responded. “They’ve tightened up a bit now though,” he added, looking Mike right in the eye.

The implication was obvious, and Mike was not going to refuse.

“Come over to the gatehouse when you’ve finished,” he said brightly. “I’m not doing anything this afternoon so you can have a soak and a massage.”

“Thanks sir!” Evan said brightly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Mike strode back along the drive, his heart pounding. Evan was coming to the apartment for sex, and now that the rugby match was out of the way, he was quite happy to give the boy what he wanted. He could, he judged, have made a move the moment the lad was through the door, but that would be crude. He’d go through the same routine as he had before, only this time things would carry on to wherever they wanted them to go.

He changed into shorts and a polo top and prepared the bedroom, making sure he had KY as well as massage oil readily to hand. He wasn’t sure if Evan would be willing to be fucked, but he wanted to make sure he was ready for that eventuality. He was just about to begin running the bath when the doorbell rang. He answered it, a smiling Evan standing there as arranged.

“Well done this morning,” Mike said, ushering the boy towards the bathroom. “I thought it was a good performance.”

“Yeah, it was okay,” Evan conceded. “It would have been great to win, but they were just too good. If their goal kicker was any use they’d have murdered us. Mr. Cooper says they’re one of the best teams he’s ever seen at our level. ”

“Yeah, he was saying that at lunchtime,” Mike said casually, turning on the hot water and throwing in a handful of salts. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it!”

He returned to the living room to await developments. He was determined not to rush things. He’d nothing else to do; they could take as long as they wanted. He sat idly, watching horse racing on the television. A race finished; the commentators began waffling. Right on cue, Evan appeared.

“Come on then,” Mike said, turning off the TV and following the lad to the bedroom.

The massage began with Mike working on Evan’s legs, exactly as before. He moved onto the boy’s back. Evan shifted position to make himself more comfortable, just as he had on the two previous occasions. Mike allowed himself a smile; the boy was hard again.

The massage continued. Evan lay still, his heart thumping against the mattress, enjoying Mike’s fingers working over his back. He was mad, he told himself. Mr. Thompson was going to bum him, just like he was bumming Martin. And it was going to hurt; oh yes, it’d hurt like hell. He’d had an older friend; he knew what getting bummed was about. He remembered the day he’d lost his virginity. Hugh hadn’t been rough on purpose, just clumsy. That had hurt, a lot.

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything to Mr. Thompson about his legs being tight; they weren’t really, not any more than usual. It was stupid, but he just couldn’t stop himself. And now he was going to get bummed. It hadn’t happened when he’d been here before, but today it would; he could sense it. He’d dreamed about this for months; now it was actually going to happen he was scared.

Mike completed the massage and sat back on his heels, pulling off his polo top. He’d pretty much decided what to do; he’d tell the boy to get up, notice his erection, and ask if he wanted some help with it. He looked down at the boy lying submissively in front of him, Evan’s bottom as perfect a specimen as he’d ever seen; the boy was wonderfully fuckable.

Evan’s underpants seemed a little loose. Mike leaned forward, inspecting them more closely. Having been through the school laundry on countless occasions, the elastic had begun to perish, leaving the garment rather less snug than it might have been. Mike was so aroused he hardly knew what he was doing. Instinctively he inserted a finger into the leg of Evan’s briefs, running it over the boy’s perineum and onto his anus. Plan ‘A’ had just gone out of the window.

“You’re a very sexy boy, aren’t you Evan?” he said in a low growl.

“Yes sir,” Evan admitted, now totally certain of what lay in store for him.

“And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Mike continued.

“Yes sir,” Evan repeated.

“So what d’you want me to do?” Mike enquired.

Evan took a deep breath. “Whatever you want, sir,” he responded.

It was almost what Mike wanted to hear; almost but not quite.

“So d’you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Evan said nervously.

“So you’ve been fucked before then?” he said, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes sir, Evan said. “Last year I was Hugh Cameron’s younger friend.”

Mike remembered the lad well, a stalwart of both the rugby and cricket teams. He’d been fairly well-endowed for a thirteen year old, but not exceptionally so.

“And what about this year?” Mike enquired.

“I haven’t got an older friend this year sir,” Evan said, “but Mark Burgess and I are in the same dorm; we take turns bumming each other.”

Mark was a big lad for twelve, but his penis was nothing out of the ordinary; if that’s what Evan was accustomed to, it was only a fraction of what Mike would be giving him.

“And which do you prefer, giving it or taking it?” Mike asked.

“Taking it sir,” Evan said.

“So now you want me to do you?” Mike continued.

“Yes sir,” Evan confirmed. “Last night when Mark was bumming me I was dreaming that it was you.”

“Are you sure?” Mike probed, removing his finger from Evan’s anus and pulling off his shorts. “You don’t know what I’ve got for you.”

“I know you’ve got a big one, sir,” Evan said. “I saw you in the showers, you know, after the race.”

Mike smiled; he’d forgotten about that. He hadn’t been erect but the boy would still have got a very fair idea of what he was going to get. It was the green light he’d been waiting for. He squeezed some KY onto his fingers then worked his index finger back into Evan’s underpants and onto his anus. He pushed inside. Evan was tight enough but he was no virgin, confirming what the lad had just told him. He inserted a second finger, twisting his fingers around to open the boy up. In front of him, Evan lay completely still, awaiting the inevitable.

Mike withdrew his fingers. He smeared KY over his rampant penis then pulled the right leg of Evan’s underpants roughly to one side, exposing the boy’s puckered hole. He straddled the lad, his knees to the outside of Evan’s, lowering himself onto his target. He pushed hard; there was no movement. He applied his full weight. The ring of muscle gave way, allowing him inside.

“Oh sir!” Evan groaned, his sphincter stretched almost to breaking point. “Oooooh!!”

“There’s no turning back now,” Mike told him.

Evan buried his face in the pillow, biting on it. The man’s penis thrust steadily deeper, penetrating him much further than Hugh or Mark ever had, the pain almost unbearable. Finally he’d taken it all, the maths master’s pubic hair scrunched up against his bottom. After a second, the man’s penis began to slide slowly out until little more than the head was still inside him. A moment later it slammed right in again, striking his prostate on the way through.

“Agghhhh!” he gasped, his cock twitching wildly.

Within seconds he was being fucked in earnest, the pain still severe but being gradually overcome by the pleasure from the man’s penis thrusting repeatedly over his sex button. He whimpered and gurgled, finally understanding why Martin and the other boys liked it so much, the sensations too wonderful to describe.

The muscle spasms began right down by his toes, sweeping over his body like a tidal wave, his throbbing spike tingling so much it was almost painful.

“Sir!” he moaned. “I’m going to cum in my pants!”

“Go on! Do it!” Mike barked. “Yes!”

A moment later, Evan’s cock jerked into life, jets of watery fluid squirting into his briefs.

Mike continued on, fucking the boy ferociously. In less than a minute he was there too. He drove his full length into Evan’s anus, gripping the boy by the shoulders. His penis reared up, copious amounts of thick creamy semen spurting into Evan’s rectum. He collapsed on top of the lad, his heart pounding against Evan’s back.

Finally he withdrew. Evan farted prodigiously, a wet patch spreading across the back of his briefs. Mike turned Evan over, pulling the boy towards him. Evan was taken unawares; before he knew what was happening, Mike’s tongue was in his mouth, the man kissing him passionately. He couldn’t resist; he didn’t even want to, his tongue eagerly joining the action.

A couple of minutes passed. Evan’s cock was thrusting against Mike’s tummy; the boy was rock hard again. Mike released the kiss, roughly pushing down Evan’s underpants. He scooted down the bed, devouring the boy’s hard little cock. He sucked it hungrily. Evan writhed and squirmed, overcome by this latest assault on his still-sensitive penis. The tingling began to build.

“Sir! I’m gonna cum!” he whimpered, his breathing so ragged he could barely get the words out.

Once more his balls churned into action, little jets of boy-cum squirting over the maths master’s tongue. Mike swallowed it greedily, licking and slurping to make sure he’s taken every drop. Finally he let Evan go, drawing the lad into a gentle hug.

“Sorry I was so rough,” he said quietly. That just blew my mind! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Evan responded. “I’m pretty sore, but that was fantastic; I’ve never been fucked like that before. You’ve cum loads, haven’t you sir?”

“More than you’re used to, I’d guess,” Mike said, grinning.

For several minutes they lay snuggled up together, not saying another word, Mike’s semen seeping from Evan’s anus and running onto the towel.

“Well, I guess it’s time you got cleaned up,” Mike said finally. “Sorry your underpants are a bit of a mess.”

“That’s okay sir,” Evan said brightly. “I’ll change them when I get back.”

Five minutes later Evan was dressed and on his way. Despite everything, he seemed to be walking quite normally. He really was remarkably tough, Mike reflected.

Mike wandered back into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. He felt completely drained, his mind in a whirl. He was completely devoted to Martin, and Gavin was a sexy as hell, but for the sheer, unbridled intensity of it, that beat everything. Evan would never be his boy; he wouldn’t even be a frequent visitor. But every once in a while the lad would ask him for a massage and he would be happy to oblige.