Date: Sun, 26 Sep 2010 05:06:21 +0200 From: Michael West Subject: Learning Curve: Part 1 All of the usual disclaimers apply to this story. This is a work of fiction, it portrays consensual sexual acts between a man, a teenage boy and a preteen boy. If this is not to your taste or illegal for you to read, please stop here. Feel free to send me an email with your comments! michaeljwest@gmx.com ========================== LEARNING CURVE: Chapter 1 It all started when my science teacher caught me fucking a first former's face in the storecupboard. Michael Barrington, that was his name, but he was universally known as Mickey. He had been sucking my cock on and off for about two months now, since the beginning of term. He was a skinny twelve year old, with red hair and a gob on him like a hoover. I was in the fifth form at the time, sixteen years old, always horny and still a virgin. I discovered young Mickey on his knees in the bogs sucking off one of his classmates. His little friend ran off when I walked in, but Mickey stayed on his knees in the middle of the toilets, his hand busy on his hairless little cock. He gave me his trademark silly grin and licked his lips. I felt my own prick getting hard in my underpants. "Want me to suck your cock as well, Jones?" he said. "What? Why would you want to do that?" I asked, puzzled. In comparison to this twelve year old cocksucker, I was incredibly naive. "Because you're hot. And it looks like you've got a big cock in there." I didn't think I was especially hot, girls never took any notice of me. I was on the first XV, and had a rugby player's build: I wasn't tall, but I was broad and stocky, with thick dark hair that tended to stick up like a brush if it got too long. Even back in the early 70s, girls preferred football players, with their lithe, lanky bodies and stylishly long hair. But he was right on one thing: I did have a big cock. So I didn't reply, I just unzipped my trousers, pulled my stiff prick out of my y-fronts and started fucking his face. I came in record time. Since then, we've tried to get together as often as we could so Mickey could get his fix of my thick cock. At my insistence, though, we used places that were a bit more discreet than the middle of the boys' toilets for our liaisons. I had found a little-used store-cupboard in the science block that seemed ideal. We'd used it four or five times already, and nobody had discovered us yet. I thought we were safe. So imagine my horror when Mr Dixon walked in on us. I had always liked Mr Dixon: he took me for science and always seemed really nice. He was in his fifties, about six feet tall and with greying hair and a moustache. A little bit of a paunch, but he wasn't fat, and he always seemed to be smiling. He wasn't smiling now. He froze and stared at us: both of us with our grey school trousers around our ankles, my prick sticking out of the fly of my y-fronts and still connected to Mickey's mouth by a thin string of pre-come. Immediately, I tried to stuff my cock back inside my underpants and pull my trousers up at the same time, which wasn't successful. Mickey just sat back on his haunches and grinned that silly grin of his. "What the hell do you boys think you are doing?" Mr Dixon said quietly. I stammered incoherently, panicking. Mickey continued to grin stupidly. Mr Dixon glared at me and told me to shut up. Then he came fully into the tiny room and locked the door behind him. He looked straight at Mickey. "I asked you a question. What do you think you are doing?" he said. "Nothing, sir!" I said, shakily. "Shut up, Jones, I wasn't talking to you. Barrington, you heard me. What were you doing?" He glared at Mickey who, after some consideration, replied: "Giving Jones a blowjob, sir!" "Oh, is that what it was supposed to be? Clearly nobody's ever shown you how to do it properly." He sighed. And then nudged Mickey out of the way and squatted down in front of me. "Barrington, I want you to observe closely. Jones, get your John Thomas back out again." I stared at him in shock, frozen with my trousers halfway up my thighs, my prick rapidly deflating. "Well, come on boy, we haven't got all day. Get it out," he repeated. I goggled at him, unable to move. So Mr Dixon reached out and pulled my prick out of my y-fronts. The shock had made it go soft, but it was still a little chubby from its recent visit to Mickey's mouth. Mr Dixon gently milked my foreskin back and forth. "We'll soon get this back in working order, young man," he said, and bent his head. He nuzzled my balls through the cotton of my underpants, gently wanking my prick. Then he started licking them with firm, broad strokes of his tongue until the pouch of my y-fronts was thoroughly damp with his spit and my prick as hard as rock. He grasped it near the root and sat back to admire all seven and a half inches of it, shifting it this way and that, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside with his fingertip and gently circling my foreskin-covered head with his thumb. "Mmm. I can see why the other boys call you 'three-legs', lad," he said before leaning forwards again. Slowly, so slowly, he stuck out the tip of his tongue and flicked it over the tip of my foreskin. I groaned, my prick throbbing and oozing pre-come. He gently pulled my foreskin back and ran his tongue over my exposed helmet, making me shudder. "Sensitive, are we?" he smirked. He took the whole of my helmet into his mouth and started to suckle on it, flicking his tongue over the tip. With his free hand he reached up and cradled my balls through the still-damp fabric of my underpants. I glanced over at Mickey and saw him staring intently at my prick, his fist busily working in his y-fronts on his own little prick. Mr Dixon pulled off my cock and rubbed the head over his lips, leaving a trail of my slime gleaming in his moustache. He jerked my prick for a few strokes and dived back on, taking half of my length into his mouth. My eyes rolled up into the back of my head and I moaned loudly. Mr Dixon's hands ran up my thighs and round under my shirt-tails to cup my buttocks. Slowly, he pulled me forward until all of my prick was in his mouth, my balls resting on his chin. I could feel the head of my prick at the back of his mouth, his throat tightening and loosening around it. Grasping the fabric of my underpants, he pulled me out of his mouth and then pushed me back in. I got the message and started humping his face, moaning as I fucked in and out of his mouth. I looked at Mickey. He was kneeling right next to me, his eyes glued to my prick pistoning in and out of Mr Dixon's mouth. He had one hand down the front of his y-fronts, still playing with his dick. The other hand was down the back of his underpants. I couldn't quite make out what he was doing back there until I saw him take out his hand, stick a finger in his mouth and then return it to his arse: he was fingering his own bum-hole! I had heard about bumming from the other lads in my form, but I'd never thought that someone would want to do it to themself. I gasped and felt my balls tightening. I was about to come, about to shoot my load down my science teacher's throat. My hands tightened on the back of his head in anticipation, but suddenly he pulled free of my grasp and let my prick fall from his mouth. With a curt "not yet, my lad," he reached out and flicked the end of my prick. Hard. Doubling up, I made a strange squawking noise and my prick rapidly deflated. Mr Dixon turned to Mickey and, surprisingly, answered the twelve year old's silly grin with one of his own. "So, boy, do you think you can do it properly now?" he asked. "Yes sir! Definitely!" Mickey turned and looked hungrily at my now-flaccid dick, licking his lips in anticipation. I felt a bit of hope rising within me: maybe I was going to get to come in somebody's mouth after all! Mr Dixon, however, had other ideas. He stood up, taking off his blazer and loosening his tie. "Very well, Barrington. Practice makes perfect, as they say. So I'd like you to practice on me first, so I can correct any errors you happen to make." He gestured at the bulge in his trousers, and Mickey went and kneeled in front of him, licking his lips again. I suppose from his point of view, a cock was a cock, and any one would do. My red-headed little cocksucker reached up and unbuckled Mr Dixon's belt. He undid the button on his trousers and pulled down the zip, letting the teacher's slacks fall to his ankles. Mr Dixon pulled his white shirt up out of the way, revealing the tent in his green-striped boxer shorts. The fabric of his shorts was wet and slimy around the tip of his cock, and the fly gaped open, showing half of the teacher's shaft. Mickey reached in and pulled out Mr Dixon's stiff prick and his balls. I leaned down for a closer look: he had a big cock, and a pair of fat egg-sized balls covered in wiry greying hair. Big as it was though, it wasn't as big as my own, and it was certainly a lot thinner. I grinned smugly. Slowly, reverently, Mickey grasped Mr Dixon's prick in his hand started stroking up and down. Mimicking the actions he'd learnt only ten minutes ago, he bought out his little tongue and started licking the teacher's hairy ball sack, swirling his tongue around the fat bollocks. Once he'd got them good and wet, he bought Mr Dixon's prick down to his face and started licking around the man's engorged helmet, making Mr Dixon grunt. I looked up at him. "Sensitive are we, sir?" I said, cheekily. "Nobody asked for your opinion, Jones," he said, in exactly the same tone he used in the classroom when he suspected one of the boys of being 'clever'. "Now, get your hands around young Barrington's dick and give him a good wanking," he added with obvious relish. I hesitated. I'd never touched another boy's prick before, let alone one belonging to a twelve year old that I'd been facefucking on a regular basis. I wasn't a queer, and touching someone else's prick was queer. "Jones..." Mr Dixon said warningly. So, as little Mickey took more and more of Mr Dixon's prick into his little mouth, I reached down the front of his y-fronts and grasped his stiff little prick. His little bollocks were held tight against his body in his hairless little scrotum, and there was nothing but baby-smooth skin above his shaft. I grasped his skinny three inches between my thumb and forefinger and gingerly started tugging him off inside his underpants. He squirmed a little, and moaned loudly around Mr Dixon's stiff prick. "Good lad," he murmured, running his fingers through Mickey's bright red hair. He had managed to get about two thirds of his six inch length inside the young boy's mouth. He started to hump Mickey's mouth gently, tiny little movements that set his great pendulous balls swinging back and forth. Mine didn't do that, I reflected. My own bollocks were still held tight in my ballsack. Mr Dixon's movements got faster and slowly he managed to work more of his prick down little Mickey's throat. I could see the lad was beginning to struggle with Mr Dixon's length, a string of drool mixed with pre-come was hanging from the side of his mouth. But he kept at it, and showed every sign of loving it. The little cock twitching in my hand certainly suggested that he was. I found my own prick starting to get hard again, and I reached down with my free hand and started gently stroking it through the cotton of my damp y-fronts. My eyes fixed on Mr Dixon's swinging balls, I started rolling my own around in the pouch of my underpants, wondering if they would start to dangle like Mr Dixon's when I got older. I was utterly mesmerised, not by the skinny prick pumping in and out of Mickey's mouth, but by the massive hairy bollocks at its base. I had to know what they felt like. Leaving my own balls alone, I reached out with my left hand and cupped my science teacher's testicles. They were heavy, and the thick hair covering the wrinkled scrotum was surprisingly soft. The fat bollocks felt good in my hand, and I began stroking them gently in time with his thrusts. "Yes, Jones! That's it! Give them a squeeze!" he hissed. I gently started squeezing Mr Dixon's bollocks as he curled his fingers around Mickey's hair. I felt his ballsack beginning to tighten in my grasp, and suddenly Mr Dixon froze and groaned loudly. I saw his prick begin to jerk and throb, and Mickey's Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow all of the load that the adult's prick was dumping in his mouth. He seemed to shoot forever, and soon Mickey's mouth began to overflow, dribbling jism all down his school shirt and tie. I felt Mickey shudder and squirm, his little prick jerking in my hand, he was gasping and moaning as he heaved an orgasm without spurting. Gently, he pulled my hand out his underpants. I stood and pushed my y-fronts down to my knees and started furiously jerking my prick. I waved it in front of Mickey's mouth, hoping he'd open up and suck on me again, but he just grinned and started cleaning Mr Dixon's jism off his tie. I felt myself getting closer and closer to coming, and then the bell rang out shrilly, signalling the end of the lunch hour. "Put it away, Jones, and get yourself to afternoon registration," Mr Dixon told me, an amused smile playing about his lips as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers. "I expect to see you in detention after school tomorrow, my lad. You too, Barrington. Now run along, the pair of you." With that, he turned and went out, with Mickey scampering out after him. Both of them leaving me there in a storecupboard with my underpants around my ankles, a stiff prick and blue balls. Bastards! ========================== NEXT TIME: Our young hero tries to get his rocks off, but gets more than he bargained for!