Hi everybody! Here’s chapter two. We’re mainly setting the scene here, indicating the way things are going to develop, so there’s not much action. But stick with it; there’ll be plenty of action to come!
All the usual disclaimers still apply. If you’re not supposed to be reading this, you’d better not. And if you don’t like stories about adult men having sex with preteen boys, this is not the page for you.
Thanks to the guys who responded to chapter one. The feedback was most encouraging. But more feedback is always welcome. Please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
1-Green’s first maths class occurred on Wednesday morning. After issuing books and scheduling their maths homework, Alex gave the boys another quick pep talk, to set out what he expected of them.
Then they began work. As Michael had expected, Mr Faulkner made everything clear and simple. Once he’d explained things, they moved onto a rapid-fire question and answer session. A forest of hands shot up in response to every question he asked. This was fun!
After around twenty minutes, he gave them an exercise to do. Michael set about it eagerly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Mr Faulkner was moving around the room, checking what they’d done. At that moment, he was on the far side of the room. As he checked the work of a pretty blond boy, he put his hand on the lad’s shoulder.
The boy seemed not to have noticed, but it struck Michael as strange. As he worked on the exercise, he glanced up occasionally to see what Mr Faulkner was doing. He didn’t see the man put his hand on the shoulder of any other boys. In a way, that seemed even stranger.
Michael looked up again. Mr Faulkner had reached the row next to his. He came to Newton, the slim, long legged boy who sat right across the aisle. It happened again, the maths master placing his hand on Newton’s shoulder as he marked his work.
Michael was puzzled. Then a thought occurred to him. Did Mr Faulkner like boys in the same way that his Uncle Jack did? He became aroused in an instant, his cock straining against his underpants. If he was right, what would happen when Mr Faulkner reached his desk?
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex continued to move around the room. He was disappointed. He’d got no reaction at all from either Barnes or Newton. It would have been better if they’d squirmed away or tensed up, telling him that he needed to stop. At least he’d have known where he stood.
As it was, they’d sat there like a couple of dolls, almost as though they hadn’t noticed him putting his hand on their shoulder. One thing seemed certain. They had no idea why he was doing it. He found that strange. All the eleven year olds at his prep school would have known.
He moved to the last line of desks. Third in the line was Whitney. The boy seemed pleased, smiling up at him and moving his book across to have his work marked. Alex would have liked to give him the hand on shoulder treatment, but he couldn’t.
The problem was that he was right handed. With Barnes and Newton, he’d stood to their right, reaching across to mark their work, his left hand perfectly positioned to be placed on their left shoulder. But with Whitney’s desk being against the wall, he was on the wrong side.
He moved in as close as he could, his right arm brushing against Whitney’s left shoulder. He glanced down, hoping to see whether the boy had an erection, but the desk and the boy’s school blazer obscured his view. It was frustrating. There was a strong hint of a positive reaction, but that was all.
“Very good!” he said approvingly.
“Thanks, sir!” Whitney responded, giving him another beautiful smile.
Alex gave the boy a quick pat on the shoulder and moved on.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
For mathematics, the fourth years were split into five groups rather than four, with a top group of thirty, taught by Neil Fleming, and four other groups of twenty four or twenty five. Alex’s group lined up outside his classroom door.
“Listen carefully,” Alex said, bringing them to order. “You may sit where you like. Now go in quietly and sit down.”
They quickly settled in. Alex looked them over. He noted that he’d met several of them in the previous afternoon’s games class. Football captain Etheridge was sitting in the middle of the back row, flanked by what appeared to be his little gang.
“Right!” Alex said decisively. “I know that the back row is where the naughty boys sit, so those of you who have chosen to sit there will now move and sit somewhere else. There are thirty two desks and only twenty five of you, so there’s plenty of room.”
Etheridge and his friends picked up their bags and moved reluctantly to different seats. They’d been had and they knew it. Not only would they not be able to sit together, they’d have to sit much nearer to the front than any of them would have liked.
“These, gentlemen, are now your places,” Alex intoned. “Unless I tell you otherwise, every time you are in this room, you will sit where you are now.”
Satisfied that he’d put down a marker, he completed the seating plan and went through the other preliminaries. After ten minutes, the lesson began. Most of the boys seemed keen, he noticed, eager to learn, apart from Etheridge and his friends, who were barely going through the motions.
They would have to be dealt with. They hadn’t put their heads above the parapet yet, but left to their own devices, they soon would. He needed to head off the rebellion before it got going. It was clear that Etheridge was the key player. He needed to get the lad back on the rails.
If he could do that, the other boys would follow. There was no point in being negative about it, he reasoned. The boy was probably used to being lectured. Instead, he’d talk to him after football training, try to draw him in. If he put his mind to it, he could get Etheridge on his side.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Thursday morning. Alex had just had his second class with 3-Blue. He was seriously concerned. Not only were they well behind where they should have been, most of them seemed lethargic and reluctant to work. They were far worse than any of his other classes.
At break he headed to the staffroom to join his colleagues. Neil Fleming was making himself a cup of coffee.
“Neil,” Alex asked. “Could I have a word please?”
“Certainly,” Neil responded, guiding him towards the chairs. “What’s the problem?”
“I need to ask you about 3-Blue,” Alex said. “I’ve taken them twice now. They’re way behind where they ought to be. And they don’t seem to have to vaguest idea about how to work.”
“Actually, I was going to speak to you about them,” Neil said, “but I wanted you to meet them first so that you could make your own assessment. The situation’s a mess. Last year, the Head decided we should teach the fourth and fifth years in five groups instead of four. I was all for it, but it meant that we had to have one class taught by someone from outside the department. He gave us Bert Crossley. He was a general subjects’ teacher. He’d taught a number of junior maths classes over the years, and he’d always done a decent job.
This time, I sensed he was struggling. Then, just when I was thinking it couldn’t get any worse, he had a heart attack. We got in a temporary teacher, but he just wasn’t up to it. He bored the pants off the lads and never got enough work out of them. As soon as the exam classes had finished, I took the class myself, so I know how poor they are. I was going to take them this year too, but the Head suggested that I should give them to you. He said that in interview you’d talked passionately about making sure kids didn’t get left behind.”
“Oh, I see,” Alex said.
“Well, you already know you’ve got a tough job,” Neil continued. “That’s a start. Be as firm as you like. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll back you one hundred per cent.”
“Thanks for putting me in the picture,” Alex said.
Do whatever he needed to do, Neil had told him. To get 3-Blue up to standard was going to require a great deal of extra work. But in the circumstances, he didn’t have a choice.
Alex knew he was putting much more effort into his teaching than even other good teachers customarily do. He needed the protection that would flow from a certain status - or more precisely statuses. First, he needed to become known by his colleagues as someone who achieved outstanding results that brought credit to the school and further enhanced its reputation. In addition, he needed to become known by the boys as a pleasant, likeable and effective teacher who would do his best for them and support them when things got tough.
With those reputations, if he ever did anything that might be slightly questionable, people would think very carefully before casting the first stone. No member of the senior management team would want to lose his services. No boy would want to experience the fury of his peers for having blown the whistle on their favourite teacher. But first he had to achieve those reputations, and that would require a great deal of work.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Under-15 football training had just finished. It had gone better than Alex had expected. There were certainly some good players in the squad, Archer especially, and they were as keen as mustard.
He’d noticed one other thing too. Wilson, who was one of the better players, was also one of Etheridge’s gang from their maths class. He called Etheridge over to him, leaving the other boys to make their way back to the changing room.
“I understand that you’re team captain,” he said, smiling.
“Yes sir,” Etheridge confirmed.
“When you’ve got changed, could you to stay behind for a few minutes? I’d like to have a chat about how we’re going to make the team the best it can be. Oh, and could you tell Wilson that I’d like him to stay too?”
“Yes, sir,” Etheridge repeated.
A few minutes later all the other boys had gone, leaving Alex with Etheridge and Wilson. He sat on one of the benches.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he said brightly, indicating the bench opposite.
Etheridge and Wilson sat down. Over the next ten minutes, they discussed the team’s strengths and weaknesses, the training they needed to do in order to improve, and what tactics they ought to play. Etheridge and Wilson were in their element. It wasn’t just that they were talking about football. Mr Faulkner wasn’t lecturing them or telling them what to do. He was asking for their opinions and listening to what they had to say.
“Well, I think that’s given us plenty to work on,” Alex said, bringing the discussion to an end.
“Yes sir!” the boys chorused.
“Just before you go, there is one other thing I want to talk to you about,” Alex said quietly. “Not only are you boys key members of my football team, you are also in my maths class. Now I hope you're not thinking that because you’re in the football team, I’ll let you get away with poor behaviour or shoddy work. That is not going to happen. Teachers who allow that sort of thing lose all respect. I expect members of my team to set an example, the team captain especially. It’s really important that you do that. You’re both intelligent lads. I’m sure you understand why.”
“Yes, sir,” Etheridge confirmed.
“Yes, sir,” Wilson echoed.
“Okay,” Alex said, smiling. “I’ll let you get off.”
He watched as the boys made their way out. The job wasn’t finished, not by any means. Etheridge in particular would need lots of help and support. But he’d made a start, and it could hardly have gone better.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The boys of 3-Blue trooped into Alex’s classroom.
“Put your pens and pencils down and listen,” he said, looking around the room.
“I’ve been talking to Mr Fleming about this class, so I now know why you are so far behind where you ought to be, and why most of you have no idea how to work properly. Now what happened last year was very unfortunate, but I’ve been given the task of putting things right, and that’s what I’m going to do. It will mean that all of us, including me, will have to do extra work. No ifs, no buts; that is what is going to happen. You are better than this. Be in no doubt, by the end of the school year, this class will be as good or better than any other of the other third year classes.
And let me repeat what I told you right at the beginning. I expect you to do each and every piece of work that I set you to the very best of your ability. I’m not going to settle for anything less, and neither will you. If you’re struggling with the work I give you, come and see me and we’ll arrange to sort it out. In addition, each Tuesday and Thursday lunchtime, I will see a small group of you for some extra teaching. And one final reminder; the homework I set you is compulsory. You will do it. You will do it all, and you will do it properly. Anyone who doesn’t will do it again in detention. Now are there any questions?”
“If you ask to see us for one of these lunchtime classes, do we have to come?”
“Yes, of course you do.”
“Will it always be the same people?”
“No. I will be concentrating on those of you that need the most help, but I plan to see all of you at least once.”
“Why do we have to do it, sir? It wasn’t our fault.”
“Whose fault it was is neither here nor there. The fact is you’re behind where you should be and your working habits aren’t good enough. We are going to put that right. Okay, it’s time to get some work done.”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex’s other classes were a joy to work with, 2-Red especially. Lively and enthusiastic, they were everything 3-Blue wasn’t. As a bonus it contained a good number of good looking boys, many still wearing shorts.
Ferris and Mitchell were especially beautiful. He’d given them both the hand on shoulder treatment. Mitchell had been as unresponsive as Barnes or Newton, but he’d obtained a tentative reaction from Ferris, who seemed to like the attention. He’d work on that when he had a chance.
He’d given first year boy Whitney some more attention too, which the boy definitely seemed to like. The problem was that without making it far too obvious, he couldn’t get close enough to be certain how interested the lad was.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
“I meant to ask,” Neil Fleming said. “How are you getting on with the fourth years?”
“Oh, they’re a good group,” Alex replied confidently. “Jones and Chandler are idiots, but they won’t be a problem.”
“Spoilt brats, the pair of them,” Neil agreed. “What about Etheridge?”
“I coach the under-15 football team,” Alex replied, smiling. “Etheridge is captain. He and his friend Wilson will be fine. After training, I told them that I expect members of my team to set an example. I think they understood.”
“Well, let’s hope so,” Neil responded. “Actually, Etheridge is very bright. When he did the entrance exam, he scored 137 on the IQ test. He ought to be in the top set, but last year his work and his attitude went downhill. Maybe you can get him back on the straight and narrow.”
Alex nodded but didn’t reply. He’d said enough already.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex picked up the receiver and dialled.
“Frecklingham 7328,” a man’s voice answered.
“Good evening Gordon,” Alex said politely. “It’s Alex Faulkner.”
“Ah, good to hear from you,” Gordon Millward responded. “So how are things in suburbia?”
“Not bad,” Alex said. “I’m working in a very good school.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,” Gordon said, “but have you found any interesting prospects?”
“It’s hard to say,” Alex answered. “I’m teaching some beautiful boys. I haven’t been able to determine whether any of them is interested. I’ve tried putting my hand on their shoulder. I got a half-cocked reaction from one of the second year boys. That was it. The others don’t seem to have a clue. I hadn’t expected that. We all knew about it well before we were that age.”
“The sons of the upper classes are sent away to boarding schools,” Gordon observed, “closed communities where younger boys learn about sex from the older ones. At the other end of the scale, the working class poor learn about it out on the street. The boys you’re teaching don’t fall into either category. By and large they have dutiful parents, who dedicate their lives to looking after them. They’re probably the most carefully nurtured generation in history. One aspect of this is that their parents keep them ignorant of sex for as long as possible. That’s what you’re up against.”
“That’s certainly what it looks like,” Alex agreed. “There is another boy in my first year class that I think might be interested, Whitney, but I haven’t been able to get close enough to be sure.”
“So why’s that?”
“His desk is against the wall. When I’m looking at his exercise book, I’m have to stand to his left. I can’t mark his work with my left hand. That would be far too obvious.”
“Oh, I see,” Gordon mused. “Couldn’t you move him?”
“I could,” Alex answered. “But I’d need a reason to do it, or the other boys might think it was a bit odd. Whitney’s very well behaved. He’s not going to give me a reason to move him. And if one of the other boys was misbehaving, I wouldn’t move him to where Whitney sits.”
“It sounds like you need to get him on his own.”
“Yes,” Alex concurred. “I’ll have to work on that. But it’s the same problem again. I’ll need a reason to ask to see him. I haven’t established myself here yet. I can’t risk asking him for no reason.”
“No, you don’t want to ruin everything by rushing things,” Gordon advised. “You’ll have to be patient. I’m glad I’m not in that position. I can see individual boys whenever I want. And I know that the boy I intend to approach will be interested long before I actually do it. Well, let me know how you get on!”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” Alex said, “and thanks for the advice.”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
“Hi, Uncle Jack” Michael said as he strolled into the flat.
“So how’s your week been?” Jack asked as they flopped down on the sofa.
“Not bad, thanks” Michael answered. “Two of the masters we’ve got are old codgers, but most of them seem okay. And Mr Faulkner, our form master’s super. He teaches us maths. He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had. He makes everything seem so easy. And guess what?”
“Tell me,” Jack instructed.
“I think he likes boys.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“At the start of each lesson, he teaches us for a bit, doing stuff on the blackboard and asking lots of questions. Then he gives us an exercise to do. While we’re working, he comes round the room to check what we’re doing. Well, there are these two boys. He always puts his hand on their shoulder while he’s marking their work. He doesn’t do that with anyone else.”
“Hmmm, interesting. So what’s special about these two?”
“Well, they’re sort of nice looking. I know you’d like them.”
“And what about you? Don’t you like them?”
“Not Barnes. He’s only small and he’s got a tiny cock. I saw him in the showers after our gym class. Newton’s okay, but even his cock’s not very big. He wouldn’t be able to fuck me like you do.”
“I take it Mr Faulkner hasn’t tried anything with you?”
“No. I think he might have, but my desk’s by the wall. He stands as close as he can, but he’s sort of on the wrong side.”
“Right! So how old is Mr Faulkner?”
“Quite young, I think, younger than you, probably. A couple of the boys in our form have brothers further up the school. They say he’s new.”
“Oh, I see,” Jack answered thoughtfully. “Well, are you ready?”
“When have I ever not been ready?” Michael responded, fondling his crotch.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was coming up to Monday lunchtime. Another fourth year maths class was drawing to a close. Alex had been pleased to note that since he’d spoken to them the previous week, Etheridge and Wilson had been as good as gold. But there was still a problem. Etheridge’s homework wasn’t up to standard. Alex took the chair from his store room and placed it next to his own. Moments later, the bell sounded.
“Right, put your things away,” he instructed, “and quietly make your way out. Etheridge, will you stay behind please. I need a word.”
As the other boys made their way out, Etheridge came up to Alex’s desk.
“Sit down,” Alex said quietly.
“Your homework wasn’t good enough,” Alex continued, looking at him intently. “You didn’t finish it and what you had done was very sloppy. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.
“It’s really not the sort of example I need you to set,” Alex went on. “Are there any reasons why you did it so poorly? Don’t tell me that it’s the best you could do, because I know it isn’t.”
“It’s hard, sir,” Etheridge explained, looking very uncomfortable. “My younger brother and sister were running around while I was trying to do it. I couldn’t concentrate.”
“So when you’re at home, don’t you have anywhere quiet where you can work?”
Alex thought that this didn’t fit very well with him having supportive parents, but he let it pass.
“Well, I’ve a couple of suggestions,” he said. “First of all, on Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes, I’ll be here working with some third year boys. You’re welcome to sit at the back and get some of your homework done. I’d definitely like you to do that on Thursdays so you can save your energy for football training. Second, when you go home, do you go through the town centre?”
“Yes sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.
“Then you could try working in the library,” Alex suggested. “They’re open till six.”
“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged, looking less than enthusiastic.
“Have you any ideas yet about what you want to do after you’ve done your O-levels?” Alex probed.
“I want to get an apprenticeship in a pattern shop,” Etheridge told him. “My uncle’s a pattern maker. It’s a really interesting job and he earns very good money.”
“Fair enough,” Alex said. “So in a year or so, you’ll be applying for jobs?”
“And when you do, the firms you’ve applied to will ask the school for a reference,” Alex went on. “Now, if you put the work in, you’ll get a glowing reference. But that means working in class and getting this homework problem sorted out. If you can’t do it at home, find somewhere else. I’ve given you a couple of suggestions. Remember, you’re a young adult now, so you need to start taking responsibility. And if I can be of any more help, please come and ask.”
“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.
“Okay,” Alex said, smiling. “Off you go!”
He sat back in his chair, watching Etheridge make his way out. He’d done the best he could. He’d just have to wait to see if it’d made a difference.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Tuesday morning break. Alex had just dismissed 3-Blue, having summoned four of the weakest boys to report back at lunchtime. They hadn’t been happy about it, but he wasn’t concerned about that. They’d soon get used to it. He was just about to head to the staffroom when Etheridge appeared.
“Sir,” he asked. “You know you said about working in here at lunchtimes? Does it have to be maths?”
“No, you can do whatever homework you’ve got.”
“Would it be okay if Wilson came too?” Etheridge continued.
“I don’t see why not,” Alex answered. “As long as you don’t sit together and just get on with your work.”
“Sir!” Etheridge acknowledged.
“If you’re definitely going to come,” Alex said. “I’ll give you passes so that you can go straight into lunch. Then you can come here for ten past one.”
“Thanks, sir!” Etheridge said, smiling.
Alex wrote out two lunch passes and handed them over.
“I’ll see you here at ten past one,” he said.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
As soon as he had finished eating his lunch, Alex made his way back to his classroom. A few minutes later Etheridge and Wilson appeared, quickly followed by the four third year boys. The two fourth years sat well apart near the back of the room, while Alex began working with the younger boys.
He began by revising some algebra that they should have mastered the previous year. With such a small group, he was able to make an impression quite quickly. By the time the session ended, they were all performing quite competently. After congratulating them on the progress they’d made, he let them go. Etheridge and Wilson were still working. Alex had almost forgotten they were there.
“Right, lads!” he said brightly. “You’d better get over to the pavilion.”
They began to pack their things away.
“So what persuaded you to give up your lunch break?” Alex asked, addressing himself to Wilson.
“I thought if Phil was going to be here, I might as well,” Wilson replied. “I mean, we’ll be playing football all afternoon, won’t we?”
“Fair enough!” Alex agreed.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The fourth year games class seemed to fly past. Alex’s group spent forty minutes on skills practice before playing a game. It went well, better than he’d expected. If the boys realised that most of what he knew came from studying coaching manuals, they certainly hadn’t shown it.
With the class at an end, he followed the boys into the changing room. Most fourteen year olds would not have interested him. Jonathan Archer was an exception. Standing only 5’3”, he was small for his age, and with his cute, boyish face, bright blue eyes and neatly trimmed blond curls, he looked no more than thirteen.
While trying not to make it too obvious, Alex watched him strip off his football kit. Unaware of Mr Faulkner’s attention, Archer stood up, showing off his smooth, beautifully proportioned body. With a medium size uncut cock, balls to match, and a neat little crop of golden pubes, he was beautiful. Instinctively, Alex licked his lips. He couldn’t help it.
Archer turned and headed towards the showers. Alex felt himself getting hard. The boy had as perfect a bottom as he’d ever seen. He’d be a wonderful fuck. But he wouldn’t pursue the lad, not for the moment at least. Archer hadn’t given the slightest sign that he’d be interested. It was like Gordon Millward had told him. He needed to get to know the boy before making a move.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex sat down to mark his fourth year group’s homework. Around halfway through, he came to Etheridge’s book. He opened it with some trepidation, not sure what he was going to find. He turned to the page. There it was, all there, all correct and neatly presented.
“Yes!” he exhaled.
It was relief more than anything. He’d staked a great deal on getting a positive response. For Etheridge to have produced another poor piece of work would have been a major setback.
The next book in the pile was Wilson’s. His homework was equally good. Alex quickly reminded himself not to get complacent. For the moment, he’d managed to get these two would-be bad boys back in line. The challenge now was to keep them there.