Date: Tue, 19 Apr 2011 17:28:43 +0100
From: Alex Carbine <alex.carbine@sky.com>
Subject: A House Master Remembers Chap 4

A HOUSEMASTER REMEMBERS by ALEX CARBINE

CHAPTER FOUR

	One thing I have noticed with the boys at school is their almost
total fascination with jock straps. Even the youngest boys soon seem to
feel that they cannot play any games without wearing a jock. No matter how
small their equipment it all has to be in that pouch. And then as they grow
older, and bigger, it seems that personal pride takes over and they keep
that small first-time pouch, as their equipment grows bigger, so that it
looks, and feels even bigger as it all strives to break out of the
smaller-than-necessary confine. Strange but true. Eventually they have to
buy another jock - usually at the beginning of the summer term - in order
to facilitate a cricket box, the plastic protector insert that prevents
groin injury. I remember one time a lad came to me with a query but just
could not seem to ask whatever it was he wanted to know because he was
embarrassed.


I was the instructor in charge of the colts cricket team and it was the
beginning of the summer term. With the evenings still sunlit, I was able to
get young hopefuls into the practice nets for try-outs - to see if they had
any talent for cricket. It is all very well to want to, but a player must
have the talent as well. A junior, Reeves, staggered into the nets for a
trial, and I could not believe the amount of kit he was wearing, with leg
pads, elbow pads, chest protector, gloves and head helmet he looked like a
living version of Tweedle Dee about to go into battle with Tweedle Dum -
see the illustration in Alice Through the Looking Glass. I got him to take
most of the padding off, save leg pads and gloves, but I noticed he had
this annoying habit of scratching his crutch before receiving a ball
delivery. In the end I walked down to his wicket and asked him if he had a
problem. That was when this young lad could not come out with his
problem. I had no idea what it was, and it was about time to pack up so I
told the others in the other nets to put everything away and steered
Reeves, with his handfuls of kit, back to School House and into my
study. There I had him sit down and I asked him as kindly as I could muster
what his problem was, and if I could help. Getting information out of him
was like pulling teeth without anaesthetic. Finally I gathered it was to do
with his underwear. Slowly I gained his confidence and eventually he
blurted out that he had gone with his Mum to a sports outfitter who had
kitted him out and supplied him with everything including a box. What the
outfitter did not supply was a jock with a slip-in pouch for the box. The
poor lad had tried to tuck it down his boxer shorts, and it kept slipping
out and travelling down his long white cricket trousers. No wonder he was
scratching at his crutch!!  So, it was House master to the rescue. I asked
him what his waist measurement was and, leaving him in my study, I went to
the Laundry room. There are always collections of various garments on the
shelves there, which have no name markings. I was able to find a clean jock
with the right waist size, and I returned with it. Closing my study door I
gave the jock to Reeves and told him to put it on to see that it was the
right size. Very self-consciously he stood up and dropped his
trousers. Sure enough he was wearing his boxer shorts. I told him he would
have to take his trousers off in order to get his jock on. He sat down
again and untied his cricket shoes, removed his trousers and then stood up
again, and there he remained looking very, very self-conscious, with his
hands crossed in front of himself. I sat down in my chair beside my desk
and looked up at his face.

I must break here to say that Reeves was one of the day-boys at the School
and that I had never seen him in the showers or baths during the day or
before bed. In fact I had never seen him naked. He had only stayed late
that night for the cricket try-out and would be cycling home when I let him
go."Come on Reeves," I said with a smile, "We've got to see if it fits
OK. Don't want any more problems do we?" He turned so his back was to me
and slowly pulled his boxers down. However as he stepped out of them he
lost his balance and slipped to one side, steadying himself on the edge of
my desk. As he straightened up I could see that physically he was well
ahead of his age, with a fair sized cock and balls, and a few hairs as
well. He had left the jock on my desk and I picked it up and held it out so
he could step into it. He turned round to face me and I encouraged him to
me by shaking the waist of the jock, spread by the fingers of both my
hands. He stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself
as he put first his left foot into the webbing and then his right. I pulled
the waistband up until his cock, which must have been about three inches
long and drooping toward the floor, was hanging over the front of
it. "There we go, pull it up," I told him. Tentatively he got hold of the
waistband and pulled up, helpinghimself into the pouch. "Have you never had
one of these before?" I asked, as he seemed to be so hesitant. "No Sir," he
replied, "I just wear my boxers."

"Well I had better make sure it fits then, hadn't I? Stand up straight and
let me see you." He stood up and I ran my finger round inside the
waistband. Then I ran a finger from each hand down inside the edge of the
pouch, ending up touching his balls. I asked him to turn around and ran my
fingers down under the strap at the back, round each cheek on his bottom. I
asked him to stand with his feet apart and felt underneath where the straps
meet the pouch, running one of my fingers back up over and past his little
puckered anus. Then I asked him to turn round again, and with my right hand
cupped I kind of weighed his balls in the pouch. "Plenty of space
everywhere," I said to him and looked up at his eyes. I noticed that his
cheeks were flushed, and he licked his lips nervously. "Does it feel
alight? Nothing pinching or anything?" With the back of my fingers I
brushed up and down the lump made by his penis. I could feel it was
slightly hard. He shook his head little. "No, Sir. It feels great, Sir."

"OK," I said, "let's try the box in it. There's a special opening at the
top of the pouch by the waistband. Here it is." And as I said that I put
two of my fingers in and wobbled them a little. "See, it goes in here."
Again I wobbled my fingers and felt them either side of the base of his
stiffening cock. His cock head - he must be circumcised - was showing in
outline through the material. Leaving my fingers in the front pouch I
reached over to my desk and picked up the pink plastic box. I pulled the
front of the pouch open and tried to slip the box in, but met resistance
from his hardening dick. "Strange," I said, "It ought to go in."  I got
hold of the waistband and pulled it down to his knees. I could see that his
cock was thicker than before and half hard. I pretended to ignore his
growing problem and slipped the box into the pouch. "There we are. I knew
it would go in," I said and with that pulled the waistband up and over his
cock forcing it to point upwards. "That's it," I said when the whole thing
was in position, "now you can take anything that comes your way, can't
you?" and I took hold of the box through the fabric and shook it from side
to side, noting that his cock was almost hard. "And you can see it does not
rub at all," putting the edge of my hand between his legs and rubbing the
space between the back of his balls and his ring. Then Reeves took me
completely by surprise and said, "Are you sure, Sir?" and put his right
foot on my chair. I looked up at him and he shrugged, smiled and said quite
slowly, "Are you quite sure, Sir?"  Now I was at a loss. "Why, does it rub
somewhere," I asked and rubbed again between his legs. "No, Sir, what you
did before that. It rubs there." I took hold of the box and moved it from
side to side again. "There Sir, It's rubbing." I looked up at him to see if
he was serious. He was not. He was enjoying what I was doing. I smiled at
him and said, "There seems to be something in the way. I had better see
what it is." He put his foot back on the ground and placed a hand on each
of my shoulders. I ran my fingers into the waistband and pulled the jock
down, having to bend forward as I did so. I let the jock drop from his
knees to the floor and he stepped out of it. His cock was hard and pointing
at me and he was neatly circumcised. He took his right hand off my shoulder
and wrapped it round his length, and started a slow wank. I cupped his
balls with my left hand and scrunched them gently a bit. He held the base
of his cock with his right hand and I got hold of it with my right hand and
wanked it a bit. A bead of wetness formed in his piss slit. I leaned
forward and licked it off with the tip of my tongue. He now stood with the
thumbs of both hands hooked over the top of the base of his cock, making it
point directly at me, his fingers gently tickling his balls. I looked up
and his eyes were closed, a soft smile playing across his face. I took the
head of his cock into my mouth and immediately tasted his slight
saltiness. I slid my lips down to his hands and felt his cockhead flare
bigger a couple of times at the back of my throat. I moved back off his
prong, but he followed me with his hips, not wanting his cock to come out
of my mouth. I made myself more comfortable and he started thrusting into
my mouth. I put my hands on his cheeks and pull him in deep each time. His
thrusting becomes more urgent. I hear him say "Oh Shit," under his
breath. He begins to grunt slightly with his thrusts, which are becoming
more like quick jabs. I squeeze his balls and stroke behind their sac. His
breathing is very quick as are his jabs at my mouth. He goes up on tiptoes
and I sense he is near cumming. I make my right hand middle finger wet and
stroke it over his ring. He moves his knees apart a bit and I am able to
gently work my finger in past his circular muscle, a little at a time as he
thrusts. He hisses "Oh Yes," and he is very close. He is bucking into my
mouth now, and I have to hold his straining cock with my left hand to stop
him doing me damage. I feel my right middle finger touch a pea-sized lump
in his bowel. He reacts with a sharp cry of "Aaahg," and then he is cumming
in my mouth. I continue to massage his prostate gland and milk him of all
his boy juice and more. He cannot stop cumming, and continues to buck in my
mouth even though he has gone dry. I push him away with my left hand. I
watch as his cock continues to pulse with each following dry
ejaculation. Then it is over for him. He puts a hand out for the chair
behind him and sinks into it. I swallow his cum, savouring its taste. He
looks up at me, his whole frame heaving as he draws deep breath after
breath. I smile at him and he smiles and nods at me. "First time?" I ask
him. "Yeah," he answers. "Last time?" I ask. "Fuck no!" he answers. "Best
phone your folks and tell them we ran late. I'll run you and your bike home
in the school bus," I said. "Let me get my breath back first. Shit that was
great. Do I make the cricket team?" he asks. "I can see you have a talent
that we can work on," I answer, "but we keep it to ourselves, huh?"

"Yeah, OK. Do I get to keep the jockstrap as well?"

"Why not? You have earned it!!"