Schoolie

Life in The Village, through the eyes of Tom Grant, the only teacher at the remote school.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)
(re-written from my 2013 version)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

 

 

From Chapter 10

While I'm `mopping up' I hear the floor board creak, so I quickly stash the tissues and cover up, expecting somebody to appear at my door.

Nobody does.

Strange!

About fifteen minutes later I hear the board creak again followed soon after by the flushing toilet. I know exactly what that indicates - one or both of them has just jacked off - again. Oh, the stamina of youthful bodies!

Chapter 11 - Will's Birthday

I hear a door close and it rouses me from my sleep. Normally I'm awake first, unless Marty is cooking breakfast. I hear the shower running. `One of them or both?' I wonder.

Suddenly Will appears in his underwear, actually a pair of my underpants, at Marty's bedroom door. "Hi Tom," he says. "I just wanted a quick chat while Jake is taking a shower. He'll be in there for a few minutes. He likes a long hot one, besides he has a bit of mess to wash off this morning." He giggles more than laughs.

"So, you've had your first birthday present for the day, have you?" I reply.

"Yeah, and I shared it with him. He's wearing it." More tittering. "Tom, I wanted to say two things. Firstly, I want to apologise for sneaking around last night. I was gonna get a drink of water when I heard noises at your end of the building, so I came up to your room quietly. I didn't mean to perve on you jacking off, but you had your eyes shut and were really spanking it. It was really hot. I watched until after you spurted then I went back and jacked off too. I was gonna tell Jake, but I didn't think that you'd appreciate it. House rule, remember? And I really didn't want him to hear from me that his teacher jacks off."

`Aha', I think. That explains the mystery of the two creaking boards - the first when he was on his way back to his room after watching my exhibition and then again when he was disposing of his evidence.

"Secondly, Tom, I really, truly appreciate how you've allowed Jake and me to enjoy each other for the past two nights. He still knows nothing about us, or about you. He just thinks that you are the coolest adult he's ever met, as well as the best teacher he's ever had."

Flattery. I love it! Brownie points!

"Will, I really like seeing you enjoy yourself, whether it's with Jake, or the twins. But I especially like it when you're enjoying yourself with me. And I know the `material rule' seems a bit artificial, considering the things that we have already done, especially the horse-and-rider game in the weir, but please bear with me. I think your luck will change, very soon."

He smiles at me and advances for a hug. "Happy birthday, big guy!" I say, giving him a squeeze around the chest, a kiss on the cheek, and a long gentle feel of his still-semi-erect manhood. "Yep, that's no little willie," I whisper, and he giggles then retreats as he hears the shower shut off.

Will showers next and I put breakfast on. Jake appears, ready for school, and walks up to me. He extends his hand, which I take, and he says, "Mr Grant, you have no idea how much fun I've had staying here with you and William. Thank you so much! You won't say anything to dad about anything, will you?"

"Jake, you've been a perfect house guest and I'm sure that William has enjoyed having you around. Remember the house rule, my lips are sealed about anything that I might have seen or heard or that we discussed. Same applies to you, as we agreed. Right?"

"Yes Sir, Mr Grant. Right. My lips are sealed - not that I've seen anything that I couldn't mention! You had your clothes on the whole time." He laughs cheekily and I join him.

Will is stunned when I serve up pancakes. "Hey, when did YOU learn to cook pancakes?" he asks. His words have a light tone of scolding to them because I haven't cooked them for him previously.

I stare at him, as if to absorb his rebuke, then let him into the little secret from last Saturday's shopping expedition. "It's easy when you buy an instant pancake mix - just add milk and shake. Let's call it a happy birthday breakfast."

"I think we should buy more of that stuff while we're in town tomorrow fetching Marty," he says jovially. "And lots of maple syrup, too."

Jake offers to make some sandwiches for lunch while I take my shower, even though I'm almost certain that Jane will bring some `goodies' for a party. I deliberately leave the door open - in case somebody wants to look.

As we head towards town, a little earlier than usual, Will asks that I drop him at the pub so that he can go home and see his mum. I think he just wants to hear her say `happy birthday, son'. Perhaps she might even have a small gift for him.

Jake and I continue to the school and unlock. Jake offers to help set out the work for the young ones.

About ten minutes later Will knocks and comes in. His eyes are red and puffy. I ask Jake to step out for a while so that I can talk to Will. Jake can see that there is a problem and he leaves us.

"She didn't even fucking remember!" Will blurts out through more tears and sobs. I put my finger to his lips and walk over to close the door. I beckon Will to the store room for a little added privacy. It's the only place that's not visible from any of the verandahs.

I give him a consoling hug and back rub. He clings to me, sobbing.

OK, he's setting me off too. My eyes start to burn as I feel my tears welling up for him and his plight. He mumbles all the profanities that he can muster, a few of them multiple times.

This was not the gift he was expecting. Lilly has inadvertently cast him adrift. This, I believe, may well be the most defining moment in his life. He must now, surely, consider living his life without her. She is more of an emotional millstone around his neck than a supportive mother. And I want to be part of his new life.

I say, "Will, I've told you previously, that I'm here for you, as long as you want me to be. I meant it then, and I certainly mean it now. We are good together; big brother and little brother. Trust me. Let me look after you in the way that she hasn't, the way that you deserve."

"Tom. Oh, Tom. The best birthday present I could ever receive would be to have you as my brother, and then we could really do stuff together. I would love that. I would love to be happy with you. I would love to stay with you forever. I've never met anyone like you, Tom. I feel your magnetism. I just know that we were meant to be part of one another's life."

He hasn't said the words exactly, `I love you,' but I certainly sense them. My heart is beating strongly. I wonder if he can actually feel it. I could certainly live with him in my life permanently. I'm sure we could sort out some arrangement with Marty for Will to stay with us.

On that happy thought, I leave him to compose himself before I bring in the other students.

Will's Birthday celebration at lunch time is a mixture of food and fun, just as it was for the twins. I must remember to thank Di for the `goodies', although I know that Jane has probably prepared a lot of them herself, including the card, at which Will marvels over her copies of his mini portraits.

Everyone took great pleasure in giving Will his 17 `birthday bumps' on the back earlier this morning. The little kids thought it was fun to `get William'; the older boys were a little more heavy-handed, but he took it all in good humour.

Again, I compliment Jane on her efforts. I know that she appreciates it.

At the end of the day, Will accepts the twins' invitation for a quick `birthday swim' before heading home with me. He's bound to `get lucky' with them. I'm hoping that Karl and Kurt's grabbing games will lighten his mood a little. He has been more quiet than usual today after his unhappy encounter with his mother.

And, yes, I have politely declined Kurt's persistent invitations, almost pleadings, to join them, despite the obvious `benefits'.

Reg comes in for a chat before taking Jake and Jane home. I insist that `the kids' both come in too, to hear what I have to say.

"Reg, I've got to hand it to you and Di, you have two marvellous children here." The kids look at each other, uncertain of where I'm going with this. "Firstly, Jane has outdone herself with the preparations for William's birthday. I know that he appreciates it. The birthday card amazed him, the food was wonderful, and she just mothers the little ones. She is a delight to have around."

Reg extends his arm, with his fingers motioning Jane closer and he gives her a quick cuddle and kiss.

"And Jake was a perfect little gentleman for the past couple of days," I continue, "helping William and me around the house. Did you know that he cooks apple pies too?"

Jake looks at me as though I've just told a whopping lie, but I simply extend my hand to him, shake his, and add as I playfully ruffle his hair in front of his dad, and I add, "And as far as I'm concerned, he's welcome any time."

I suddenly think, `and where will I sleep if Marty's at home and Jake's in with Will?' We could probably work out some alternative sleeping arrangement. It would be better for the boys to take Marty's bed than for Marty and I to be seen sharing it. House Rule applies.

Hmm. I'm slightly aroused as I consider both possibilities, and it's better that Jake doesn't see me and Marty sleeping together. Marty will find the other option (of the two boys in his bed together) amusing, I'm sure.

However, that could that alert Marty to Will's sexuality and, subsequently, arouse suspicion about Will and me, sleeping in the same room and always with the door closed? Life is complicated! Then again... he already knows that Will and Jake have jacked off together, doesn't he?

Maybe I'll leave it to Marty to suggest the sleeping arrangements and hope that he makes the same decision which I favour.

Back at home, I have to work hard at making conversation with Will, recounting all of the positives from throughout the day. All, however, seem to be overshadowed by his mother's forgetfulness of his birthday. I even indulge in some, hugging and touching, but Will's mind is elsewhere.

Feeling a little despondent myself, we agree to hit the sack a little earlier than usual. Nothing deals more effectively with a depressive mood than sleep.

I'm mostly asleep, but still sufficiently conscious to hear Will get off his bed and cross to mine. Without a word he lifts the sheet and slides in beside me. I move over so that he has more room. We are both fully naked. "Are you OK?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess," Will mutters. "I just didn't want to be alone right now. Are you OK with a little brother just being next to you on his birthday?"

I mumble in the affirmative and our two bodies settle into comfortable positions, both on our backs, touching at the hips and shoulders.

Will's right arm is resting along the depression between our two touching thighs. I lay my left hand on his right one. He turns his hand over, interlocking our fingers and I give his hand a gentle squeeze.

I tell him, "Let me say this to you again, Will... I never want you to feel that you are alone. I will be here for you as long as you need me to be and you want me to be. Again, I just want you to be assured of that." He squeezes my hand back, in acknowledgment.

After a while I release my grip (or is it his grip? - I'm not sure which) and move my hand so that it is lying across my chest towards my opposite shoulder, and begin to drowse deeply.

 

Sometime later, I become aware of Will's hand and arm again. From between our bodies he moves his hand so that it's resting palm-down on my pelvic bone, with his elbow on my abdomen. He sighs heavily as though he is just stirring in his sleep. I say nothing. A few minutes later he moves it again, in the same direction. Only a couple of centimetres. And soon, another couple. I can feel the little finger of his right hand now against my cock that is sound asleep on my abdomen.

`Here goes the material rule!' I think to myself.

Is he making a move on me? His finger tips are resting in my pubes. For a long time, there is no further movement. Then he begins to gently rake and rub my tight curls with his fingers, back and forth, up and down, but with no attempt to grab anything. I'm not sure where this is leading but, being fully sympathetic to his emotional condition at the moment, I can deny him nothing. Even this. Even more.

"Will, are you sure you want to do this?" I whisper tenderly, breaking the silence and easing the sexual tension that has been building.

"Do you mind, Tom?" he whispers back.

"No. Not really, I guess." I want to tell him how unprofessional I feel, allowing the inevitable breaking of our agreed rule, but I dare not destroy the apparent magic of this moment for him.

At the same time, I am reluctant - no, not able - to tell him how thrilled I am. I can't convey my mixed emotions (from guilt to excitement) in words, so I move my left arm and place it on his body, and begin to gently copy his pube play.

I feel a little less guilty knowing that Will has made the first move, instead of me. I want him to know that I'm accepting of what he's doing. "Will, you have my blessing to do whatever you are comfortable with, and you know the saying, `Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' OK?"

I want him to feel that he is in total control of the situation. I don't want him to think that another trusted person is either willing to take advantage of him or, maybe even worse, to appear to reject him by not responding warmly to his many complex needs, especially today.

"God, I wish that I had you as my brother when I was growing up," Will sighs deeply.

I think to myself that he's overplaying the `brother' fantasy but, maybe, he's just grateful for an opportunity to share intimate, secret things. It seems that he has spent his entire life being insulted and abused by others and hiding things from people, having nobody to confide in about his feelings. Is he really just in need of a mate?

Well, there's always Jake but, I suspect, from what Will has shared with me, that their relationship will be nothing more than some mutual adolescent exploration and fun, until Jake `moves on'.

There are no words, just touching. Occasionally Will moves his hand from my curly hairs to run his fingers up and down my abs. Is this what he wants me to do to him? I respond, giving him the message that I'm willing to follow his lead. Whatever he does. Whatever he wants. Whatever he needs.

I'm receiving some longed-for skin-on-skin stimulation and, at the same time, getting a green light from Will to pleasure him.

Little could he know just how much he is exciting me.

Whether it's accidental or, I suspect, intentional, he is regularly brushing the back of his hand against my cock as he explores my abs. My willpower is losing its battle. I don't think I can stay soft any longer.

Then, without any prior hint, he slowly reaches down and his hand envelopes my balls which start to tingle in the unexpected delight of his touch.

His soft artist's hand begins to gently explore them. He fondles first one then the other then both together, lifting, rolling, weighing them. Perhaps he is doing a comparison with his own, searching for differences in size, shape, firmness - nonchalantly, lightly, firmly, surely.

That's done it! He's woken Junior up! Will's had a few minutes' head start so I slowly proceed with the green light and begin to copy his movements. It only takes the initial brush of my fingers for me to realise that Will's own manhood is totally rigid, standing up off his abdomen, in pleasure and anticipation.

With his middle finger, Will presses against, and is stroking, the growing firmness below my balls, my perineum. Where the hell did he learn that?

I encourage him by opening my legs, then slowly move to do the same to him, running my finger up from near his hole across the lowest, `hidden', part of his hard-on to his balls. And again. He continues to do the same until my stiffness rapidly matches his own.

On one up-stroke he continues between my balls, encouraging them to separate to either side, and continues pressing up my shaft. Before he gets to the head, I feel my body tingle again, but more deeply within me this time, which I know is the releasing of some pre-cum that his stroking will massage to the surface and spill out.

He stops short of the top and returns his fingers to the base of my cock and repeats a full `milking' stroke, with his thumb underneath this time, all the way to the top. His slight pause tells me that he has encountered my discharge of natural lubrication. He spreads it around the head, causing me to shudder and sigh with pleasure at the sensation, then he moves south for another stroke. Green light. I synchronise my stroking with his.

His cock twitches. Mine twitches.

When Will's fingers return to my head there is much more slickness waiting for him. He cups his hand for the first time around my shaft and spreads the oil around and down its length. I gasp at the feeling. Back for more - spreading, and still more. His hand is now sliding up and down my cock, lubricating it, grasping it, pushing it down, milking it up.

OMG! My senior school student is jacking me off! This feels so totally different without the material!

"Will?" I break the long silence.

"I'm sorry, Tom. Did I do too much? Sorry!"

"No, Will. You didn't do too much. I just want to tell you how fantastic this feels. It's OK if you want to keep going, but if you do, you're going to have me shooting a load sometime real soon."

He giggles. He reaches down to the floor with his other hand and produces a towel. Now, where the hell did that come from?

The little bugger! He's planned the whole thing! Who said he wasn't smart? He pushes down the sheet and lays the towel across our chests and stomachs. We stretch it out so that we are covered to prevent our now-inevitable conclusions from making too much of a mess.

"So, brother," he growls, "we not only look the same, but it is becoming obvious that we really enjoy doing the same things, eh?"

Without any harshness in my voice I just loudly whisper, "You're a sexy little sod, you know that?" I tell him with a smile in my voice, but pondering the absolute sexual maturity of this now-17-year-old.

"Same!" he giggles like an immature pre-adolescent. What a contrast this confidence is to his earlier displays of misery.

I'm thrilled to hear him, and feel him, so relaxed and happy. And, yes, I'm just plain thrilled... with everything.

We resume our mutual stimulation. My mind turns from my own cock to what my hand is occupied with. It milks him once more and as it reaches the top, it is met with an absolute flood of his pre-cum. I spread it down his stiffness and up again. And down. His cock twitches and he moans very loudly. I'm glad that Marty is not around, outside my door, listening to this `lesson' as he did with Will and Jake!

"Not too loudly, my little brother! I wouldn't want Anna or Mum to hear you all the way over at their house," I happily encourage him. His cock jerks again, hard.

We continue stroking each other, now breathing heavily, and I begin to coordinate with his rhythm. On each of his downstrokes I raise my hips, pushing my rod hard into his slickened fist. He increases his own pace a little, conveying a sense of urgency.

I respond similarly, and when he starts to suck in air and exhale rapidly, I know that he is close. His hand freezes. His body tenses. He arches his hips off the bed, thrusting himself into my hand. I feel his cock swell and then it spasms, pumping trongly ... three ... four ... five ... more.

With this stimulation, my own mind and body surrender with a long, muffled `ohhhh', and my cum cannon quickly follows his lead. I feel one massive shot hit my chin. I don't know where the rest of mine, or where any of his ended up, apart from the abundance in my hand!

Every muscle in my body relaxes and, with a deep sigh, I sink back into the mattress, enjoying the euphoria of what I have just experienced with Will. He continues to breathe heavily but it's slowing down as he just lies still.

We wait a while, then take the towel and wipe off our wet cocks and sticky hands. I also attend to my face. Will rolls up the towel and drops it onto the floor next to him. We each place a restful hand on the other's jewels and softening poles, and lean our heads together.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I half whisper to him. "It was wonderful."

"Practice," is all he says in a very mischievous tone. I don't ask with whom. Maybe solo. Maybe Jake.

A seemingly long time passes and I whisper, "Will. We have a problem."

"What?" he asks, his body tensing slightly, obviously unsettled in anticipation of what I might say.

"Will," I begin, "I absolutely love what you and I just did together. One issue is that I am still your teacher. But, now there's an even bigger problem - without the `material rule' we have just crossed into new territory, and it was so good that I don't think I will be able to stop myself from doing this with you in future. This is precisely what I was afraid of."

I feel the tension in his body subside. "I don't want it to be a one-off either, Tom. I can't begin to tell you how great I feel, being here with you. Thank you - first for allowing me to do it with you without the material, and then for how you did it to me! I loved the feel of your body, and feeling your cock wake up and stiffen in my hand, and all your pre-cum, and the way you started fucking my hand, and your gentle..."

"Shush." I tell him quietly. "Roll on top of me."

There is silence, as he takes in what I am saying. "Come on, get yourself up on top!"

I put my arm over his body indicating with a slight pulling motion that I want him to lay himself on me, face-to-face.

He doesn't ask any questions and, using his hands to lift himself over me and then supporting himself on his elbows, he lowers himself gently and deliberately between my parted legs slowly from the feet, then his thighs and chest. This time there is no underwear and no sheet between us; no material to separate us. His cock is lying alongside of, and in direct contact with, mine. Our balls are touching. What to do with his head?

"Oh, Tom," is all he says then lowers his lips to mine.

Will relaxes his full body weight onto me and cradles my head in his soft hands and practises some passionate kissing. My own hands slide down to each firmly cup and fondle his pair of muscular, downy-haired butt cheeks and I experience another groundswell of pleasure as I feel them beginning slow, tight, rhythmic contractions.

OMG. Finally! Fully naked, together. `Getting lucky'.

 

(to be continued)

 

There is a parallel version to this story, told through the eyes of Kurt.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/kurt-series/

-----

If you like this story, and haven't said 'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.

rob.zz@hotmail.com

I try to reply to everyone. Please be patient.

-----

Please support the efforts at Nifty. Every little bit helps to ensure that

our stories continue to be posted. Do it here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html