Date: Wed, 13 Nov 2013 14:40:17 +0000 (GMT) From: Hasan Khan Subject: Hurstpoint Preparatory part 6 (some of my text went missing from Part 5. The continuation is here as Part 6) The first strokes in and out of my chute were slow and deliberate as if he were training my ass for greater things. A few inches back and forth before pulling himself to the edge of his helmet. The strokes increased in speed but at this stage he remained inside me, teasing my chute with the thickness of his erection. I wanted to cry with pleasure as I felt the column of flesh sculpt my tunnel upwards and downwards. Tim pulled me this way and that as he rubbed his rock hard helmet against my delicate prostate nut I could feel the juice rise up through my tubes and a drip form at the lips of my tender piss slit. I heard the "plop" of muscle and flesh the moment Tim pulled out of me. I also felt the sudden searing pain when without warning he pushed himself back into me, stretching my hole to its widest. Once inside, and with his groin pressed hard against my buttocks, he whispered to me "Scream if you want, its the real thing now." With a ferocity that I could never have imagined Tim began to plough my buttocks and chute like a man possessed. If he had tried to be careful and gentle in the previous minutes, he was now teaching me how to be a man in every sense of the word. His eight inches of steel hard flesh rammed in and out of me: half way, a third of the way and then out of my body leaving it defenceless against further invasion. I cried out for more whilst he filled me with his rampant shaft. When my body felt as if it could take no more Tim began to slow his thrusts. Deliberately and with careful measure he ploughed me in and out to the fullness of his length, letting my bowels caress his hot flesh. Taking my five inches in his strong hand he began to wank my foreskin up and down in time with his own thrusts. Attentive to our mutual need for release he maintained a perfect rhythm: his circumcised cock glided in and out of my chute, whilst my foreskin slid up and down my shaft. I wanted these moments to last forever but all too soon I felt the throbbing of his shaft, deep inside me. At the very moment that his hand was sprayed with my pent up juices I felt the force of his ejaculation deep within me. Tim was reluctant to withdraw from me and kept up his thrusting till the last drops had flowed out of him and into the deep recesses of my body. All the time he continued to pull me foreskin up and down, his hand drenched in my cream. Only when our shafts began to soften did he begin to pull out of me and let my shrinking penis drop from his hand. We cleaned each other off under the shower, washing each other's cocks and balls. Tim with great gentleness soaped and rinsed my aching backside. As we dried off Tim Weaver shared with me his thoughts about the boys of Hurstpoint Preparatory and soon had me getting stiff again as he recounted his exploits with the boys who were now in my dormitory. It had not only been Jason Smithers who had been skinned back by Tim Weaver but he had been responsible for teaching Rupert Masterson about the pliability of the foreskin and the necessity of skinning back to urinate. Of course his favourites were the roundheads of the form and graphic detail he proudly told me how he had demonstrated the use of perfumed handcream to Nigel Feathers who had returned to school the previous year having been circumcised during the long vacation at the insistence of his father, following an incident when young Nigel had been discovered innocently playing with himself and then getting his foreskin stuck behind his little helmet. Despite my incompetence on the badminton court we agreed that we should have a knock about from time to time. The wink in Tim Weaver's eye suggesting that shower time adventures would be repeated. Bedtime stories are not a regular feature of life at Hurstpoint but that night I lingered in the almost empty dormitory chatting to the boys. Trsistan James was the one who pleaded with me. "Sir, tell us a story, one of your history stories, Sir. It's too early to go to sleep. Tell us the one about Spartacus and the slaves, and the gladiators in Rome." So it was that I finished up sitting on Tristan's bed with the boy snuggled up to me on one side, while Peter Obi positioned himself to my left. Two other boys got behind us and Gerard Redmond made himself comfortable on the floor leaning against my legs. Perhaps it was the frequent mention of muscular oiled bodies glistening in the Mediterranean sun, tight and skimpy loincloths covering manhoods and naked slaves which caused the frisson to mount but soon enough Tristan James had his hand gently moving across his pyjamas in the area of his groin. Peter Obi had his arm tightening around my waist and I felt sure that a little hard boy cocklet was pressing against my back. Soon enough Tristan had to make himself more comfortable and it was at that moment that his pyjama bottom came apart and his hard little uncircumcised penis sprang into view. The pale creamy foreskin had slipped back a little to reveal the tip of a purple moist glans. Unselfconsciously he made no effort effort to cover himself up and I whispered into his ear "Leave it out." Next to burst his confines was Peter Obi who while pretending to be attentive to my tales of naked gladiators in the Roman Forum was staring across my groin towards Tristan's throbbing erection. In no time at all his ebony cock was jutting out of his pyjamas and the smile on his face made it clear that he was the proud owner of Hurstpoint's largest teenage cock. Gerard Redmond had by this time nuzzled his head close to my groin and with his own beautifully circumcised cocklet straining to escape the confines of his night clothes was provoking a massive hard on in me. Having dispatched gladiators to wolves and lions, to the sword and the spear I was ready to call it a night and leave the boys to their devices. "Let's play gladiators before we go to bed, Sir. You can be the emperor and decide who gets killed. Come on Sir, it will be fun." Before I could reply the boys began to strip off and take up position with imaginary weapons in their hands. Five naked boys began to wrestle and stab at each other, penises wobbling and shaking in the cool air of the dormitory. Gladiatorial combat soon degenerated into gladiatorial wrestling and five sets of hands reached for scrotums and penises. Boyish shrieks pierced the air as testicles were squeezed and then groans and sighs took over as cocks were stroked and pulled. Little Tristan was the first to spill his load onto the tiled floor of the dormitory having been pleasured to the limit by three sets of hands. Paul Sarto lay on his back for Damian Rothers to pull his tight foreskin up and down, moaning each time the little red prepuce edged its way across the crown. But soon enough he squirted his milky load and obligingly brought his friend to a dry climax thorugh skilful manipulation of the long, loose foreskin which the boy possessed. Meanwhile, the two circumcised warriors of Cedar dormitory, Peter Obi and Gerard Redmond were locked in combat, groin to groin, black against white, naked glans rubbing against naked flesh. The rhythm of their gyration was bound to bring them to climax before long. Peter's already four and half inch black erection slipped out from moment to moment affording me a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted penis, cut half way down the shaft in infancy. Gerard's equally severe circumcision had left his cock skin tightly stretched, the large mushroom glans flaring out beyond the two toned shaft. Perhaps the old chesnut was true, circumcised boys and men last longer. Peter and Gerard pushed and pulled at each other, manhandled each other's cocks and squeezed their bodies together as if they were never to be parted. With my own cock having skinned itself back in full confined erection and leaking watery fluids into my briefs I watched intently as black flesh rubbed against white, the two bodies jerking in harmony. At length it was Gerard who let out a long low moan, his juices running into the hairless black groin of his partner. Peter Obi continued to rub himself against the pale white flesh of his friend until he too began to spurt thick boy cream between the legs of his now wilting friend. It was at that very moment, as the circumcised black flesh dripped its load that my moment of release came. Sitting on Trsistan's bed I felt the oozing of man juice spreading across my hot groin. A perfect end to a perfect day. This story comes to you from one who never went to boarding school but who would love to hear about your experiences of growing up in an all boys institution. Jeremy.