Date: Sun, 22 Jan 2006 13:52:43 -0800 From: Bert Subject: Hillhurst Prep School, part 1 Disclaimer: Of course the usual disclaimer is needed. This novel is a work of fiction. School, boys and adults only exist in the mind of the author. Sometimes sex, sexual acts and so on will be there. If it is against the law of your country or it will shock your parents don't reed it. If you have an open mind and some knowledge about life, have fun! For them who like to email me: dutchb14@icqmail.com Hillhurst Prep School. The beginning. There it is the road to Hillhurst Prep School. Situated not far from a small village somewhere between London and Manchester. Hillhurst is an all boys Boardingschool where parents can send their offspring for only 35.000 British pounds a year! So, suitable for captains of industry, medical specialists, high diplomats and some others. The atmosphere in the institute is rather liberal and the goals are not only to provide an excellent school education but also to prepare all students for real life. On the other hand the school is rather traditional. Each and every boy has to wear the school uniform. On schooldays short navy blue corduroy trousers, shirt and sweater and completed with grey knee length socks with wine red ringlets. On Sundays there is a dark grey short pants suit with a white shirt, wine red tie and sparkling white knee length socks. They all have light blue underwear; singlet and tight Y front slips. However it's strictly forbidden to sleep in their underwear. All boys have to sleep wearing nightshirts ending a few inches under their knees. I stop my car for a while along the road and lit a cigarette. Sure, a bad habit but it is one of the few weaknesses I allow myself. Who am I? My name is Colin Powels and no, I am not related to that American general. I am 22 years old and just got my University grade in Sociology. After a tough interview I was hired as the school counsellor what means: do everything the teachers don't like to do or simply can't do. I was adopted by an older couple and never discovered who my biological parents are. My adoption parents were well off and made me financially independent after they passed away a short time ago. My father has taught me very well how to handle money properly so I can easily live on the fruits of my capital. I was a late bloomer. At eighteen I even hadn't got any hair around my penis or somewhere else on my body. I looked like an eleven year old boy down there at that time. Finally I got artificial hormones injected and that helped to kick me into the growing process. That doesn't mean I look like a giant now. God no, five feet and some inches doesn't look very tall. However at last I look normal now in the crotch area, so to speak, and I also have experienced decent ejaculations and orgasms instead of the dry boy clicks I was used to for such a long time. I still have to laugh about the first reaction of Hillhurst director the moment I entered his office for my interview. "Jesus Christ", he said, "You're not looking one day older than our older boys. From where you suppose to get your authority". Before answering him I looked straight into his eyes for a few moments. "Well sir", I said, "Power I will have because I am employed here and for the time being that will be enough. Authority however I'll have to deserve by practicing mutual respect". My boss to be smiled. "All right, because you are financially independent I presume you are willing to work here without a salary?" "You are not joking sir?" I asked frankly. "Of course not Colin". "Well thank you for your time sir; as far as I am concerned this interview is over now. Being rich doesn't mean I am going work for free". He did burst out into a roaring laughing. "That's the answer I needed son", he said, "You're hired". And here I am, along the road to my new working place; not nervous but just a bit tensed and looking forward to my new life. My tailor has made for me two short pants school uniforms equal to the Hillhurst materials and colours and a grey short pant suit for Sundays as well. Wearing the uniform is not an obligation for staff members but there are also no rules against it. I just like to wear short trousers because I feel free and happy in them and, well let's say, the boy in the man never dies! I finish my cigarette and start the engine of my maroon jaguar motorcar again. Just another mile from here a new part of my life is waiting for me. A few minutes later I park my car on the school ground and walk with my suitcase to the main entrance. Before I even can ring the door swings open and I look into the eyes of a very cute boy of eleven, may be twelve years old. His uniform suits him very well and I admire the typical long legs of a preteen boy on the edge of puberty. "Good morning sir", his voice is clear as a frosty morning, "You must be Mr. Powels, sir". "That's true and who are you?" "I am Jamie sir, and I am in your dormitory group". "Good and why are you here and not in your classroom, Jamie?" "Because I was asked to show you around sir". I smile and he smiles back like magic. I suddenly feel very, very happy to be here. "Ok stud, than show me my quarters and everything else please". "My pleasure sir. Give me your suitcase and I will bring it up for you". As a fully trained bell boy Jamie swings my suitcase on his shoulder and guides me to the first floor and my apartment there. I've seen it before, living room, bedroom with attached bathroom and a kitchenette. "Where shall I bring your suitcase sir?" "Hm? Oh put it in my bedroom please Jamie". After this we walk along together to and through all places I have to know ending in the dormitory of my group. It shows there is discipline here. Nightshirts and blankets neatly fold up on the end of the beds. Three beds are showing some marks of let's say nocturnal emission caused by Mother Nature or by hand. "Yep", I say to myself, "Yep, this is the place I want to be". To be continued.