The Wedding

by Pink Panther

This story, which is entirely fictional, depicts sexual activities between two underage boys, and between one of the boys and an adult male. If this is not what you wish to read, please leave this page now. If, for whatever reason, it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please be aware that neither Nifty nor I can be held responsible for the consequences if you do decide to read it. If you do read on though, I hope you enjoy it! Feedback will be more than welcome; please send your comments to archimedes294@hushmail.com and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Finally, may I remind you that Nifty relies on readers' donations in order to keep operating as a free site. If you have not made a donation recently, please give as generously as you can. In these difficult times, we need this resource more than ever,

 

It was eleven o'clock on a sunny Friday morning, the last day before the school broke up for the spring half term break. Twelve-year old Callum MacDonald was in his housemaster's office. He was bent over the man's desk, his shorts and briefs around his ankles, his short-sleeved shirt pushed up under his armpits. Standing behind him, housemaster Mr Naismith was thrusting his hard, six-inch cock into the boy's bottom, fucking the lad with long, rhythmic strokes.

"This is what you want, isn't it, Callum?" he whispered.

"Oh, yes sir!"

"Time for you to take what I've got for you!" Mr Naismith rasped, his breathing becoming harsh and uneven.

A moment later his penis jerked violently, volley after volley of hot, creamy semen spurting into the youngster's tight little tunnel.

"Oh sir!" Callum gasped. "You're spunking up my bum!"

He was ecstatic; the sensation produced by the man ejaculating deep inside him was the most wonderful experience he could imagine. After a few seconds, Mr Naismith carefully withdrew. Without waiting to be asked, Callum stood upright, shuffling around until he was facing the opposite way.

Mr Naismith was kneeling in front of him. With his housemaster holding the tops of his thighs, Callum stood perfectly still, allowing the man to devour his throbbing four-inch prick. The boy had been so close to orgasm, it was only a few seconds before little jets of watery boy-juice were squirting into the man's mouth.

"Beautiful!" Mr Naismith breathed, letting the boy go. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes sir! I love having your cock inside me."

While the housemaster got to his feet, Callum pulled up his skimpy white briefs and grey school shorts. As soon as Mr Naismith was fully dressed, he drew the lad into a sensuous kiss.

"I'm going to miss you next week," he said quietly. "But I'd better let you go. The buses will be leaving in five minutes."

"I'll miss you too, sir," Callum responded.

Picking up his bags, he made his way out to the front of the school, where two double-decker buses were waiting to take the boys to the railway station.

Living out in the country, Callum found school holidays difficult. It wasn't all bad. He'd have limitless time to draw and paint, plenty of time too to play the piano, practising for the Grade Eight examination that he'd take in the Autumn. And if the weather remained fine, he'd be able to ride his mountain bike along the numerous trails that criss-crossed the hills and woods near where they lived. On the other hand, he'd miss spending time with his friends. There were only a few boys who lived anywhere near where he did, and being away at boarding school for most of the year, he didn't know any of them.

More than that, he'd miss having sex. At half past five that morning, his dorm-mate and best friend, Damian Crenshaw, had got into bed with him and pulled off his pyjama shorts. In response, Callum had rolled onto his tummy, a pillow under his hips, allowing his friend to fuck him.

He had an older friend too, school cricket captain James Corkindale. The previous evening, James and Callum had gone into the toilets together. After locking themselves in one of the stalls, they had pulled down each other's shorts and underpants. Callum had then bent over the toilet, enabling James to give his bum a serious pounding.

Then there was Mr Naismith. In many ways, he was the best. He had the biggest cock and made the most spunk. Sex with him was unbelievable. But what Callum really wanted was a lad of fifteen or sixteen, with a big cock like Mr Naismith's who could shoot lots of spunk into him while still being boyishly good looking.

Callum knew that such boys existed, but he'd have to wait until he started at public school to meet one, and that was still fifteen months away. It was all very frustrating.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The first six days of the holiday passed off as normal. The second weekend, however, would be a special occasion. On the Saturday, Callum's cousin, Catriona MacDonald, was due to marry a young English guy called Tim Whitehead whom she'd met when they were studying at Cambridge University. As both families were prosperous, and prominent in their respective communities, this would be a big wedding, with members of both extended families in attendance, as well as other guests.

Apart from Catriona's immediate family, everyone would be staying at a large hotel and conference centre, which the wedding had taken over in its entirety. It would be an unashamedly Scottish wedding too, with all of Catriona's male relatives dressed in the MacDonald tartan.

The day before the wedding, Callum travelled with his parents from their home in southern England to the Scottish borders, where the wedding was to take place. After nearly seven hours on the road, Callum's father turned their Mercedes into the grounds of the hotel. Surrounded as it was by an immaculately manicured golf course, it was an impressive sight.

When they entered the hotel, Catriona's mother was there to greet them. Callum's father already had the tartan, which he wore each year for Burns' Night and Hogmanay. For Callum, however, wearing a kilt would be a new experience. He was greatly looking forward to it.

"Your mum gave me all your measurements," his aunt told him as she accompanied Callum and his mother to their room. "I think these should fit you alright."

Callum was disappointed to find that he and his parents would be sharing a family room. He'd hoped that he'd have a room on his own, but it was not to be; he'd be sharing with his parents, just as he always had. There was an uneasy hiatus.

"You need to try them on, dear!" Callum's aunt said.

Callum remained unmoved, looking pointedly at his mother.

"We'd better leave him to it," she said, turning to her sister in law. "He's become very self-conscious these days." She turned back to Callum. "Okay," she added. "We'll see you in reception."

Left on his own, Callum quickly changed into his new clothes: the close-fitting shirt, the kilt, the sporran, the knee-length socks and other accessories. They all fitted perfectly. He checked himself in the mirror. He looked good, he thought. He wondered if he should go properly Scottish, and leave himself naked under his kilt. He knew his father never did that, but guessed that some of his cousins probably would. But he didn't have to make a decision then. He'd leave it until the next day.

With his neatly trimmed, slightly wavy mid-brown hair, brown eyes, regular, boyish features, clear skin and a ready smile, Callum was a good-looking lad. Standing a fraction under five feet tall, and slim without being skinny, he had a nice physique too. Not only did highland dress suit him perfectly; it made him feel sexy.

"Who is this handsome young man?" Callum's aunt quipped as he strode into the hotel reception.

"You look great!" the boy's mother confirmed, smiling.

Although he found it slightly embarrassing, Callum couldn't stop himself beaming. He looked good, and that made him feel good.

"Okay," his mother ordered. "Go and change into your ordinary clothes. We need to get something to eat, it's already half past seven."

As he headed back towards the lift, Callum noticed an older boy emerging from the lounge. The lad stood around five feet ten. On the slim side of athletic, he was very good-looking, with blue eyes, silky blond hair, a boyish face and skin as clear as Callum's; exactly the type that the preteen had fantasised about.

For a moment, their eyes met, the teenager appearing as interested in Callum as the twelve-year old was in him. Callum's heartrate increased rapidly. He didn't know this boy-god, so who was he? `Other guests' were confined to close personal friends of the bride and groom and their parents. As the lad was clearly too young to fall into that category, he had to be one of the Whitehead family, Callum concluded.

Interesting as that was, he couldn't stand there staring. He continued on his way, hoping that he'd see the boy again later. After changing back into the shorts and polo shirt that he'd worn on the journey, he met his parents in the hotel dining room.

He looked around, hoping to see the older boy again, but there was no sign of him. He'd just have to be patient, Callum told himself. The lad would be at the wedding reception the following afternoon. Maybe they'd get a chance to meet then.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jonathan Whitehead, the bridegroom's fifteen-year old brother, was mildly excited. Having come to the wedding with no expectations of anything more than an enjoyable weekend, he'd just seen a vision. Emerging from the hotel lounge, he'd encountered a very cute younger boy, whom he guessed to be around twelve. The lad's traditional Scottish dress, which marked him out as a MacDonald, made him look as sexy as hell.

The exciting part, however, was the `come hither' look that the boy had given him. Jonathan hadn't had sex with anyone of that age since he'd left prep school, almost two years earlier. There were some cute younger boys at his public school, but they were the exclusive property of various prefects, young men three years his senior. With the odds stacked against him, he had decided to leave well alone.

It was true that his dorm-mate Nathaniel `Natty' Baird was happy enough to bottom for him. It was also true that there's no such thing as a bad fuck, especially when you're as horny as Jonathan often was. But Natty was fifteen years old, and in terms of cuteness, he wasn't in the same league as the young MacDonald boy.

The best opportunity for them to meet would come the following afternoon, after the meal, when the dancing started and the adults got down to some serious drinking. But that was not without its problems. Jonathan was sharing a room with his eighteen-year old cousin George, who was arrogant to the point of being obnoxious. Being the older of the two, George had insisted on taking charge of their room-key. It was by no means certain that Jonathan would be able to get hold of it without drawing attention to himself.

This meant that if he did hook up with young MacDonald, they would need somewhere safe to go. Jonathan's priority was to find the most suitable place.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The following morning, Callum woke up early. Sharing a room with his parents, he hadn't dared to have a wank. With his mum and dad still asleep, he slipped into their en-suite bathroom. He would have dealt with the problem there, but decided not to, concerned that his parents might hear him. After a pee and a shower, he returned to the bedroom to dress in his newly acquired clothes. Having checked that his parents were still sleeping, he took the small tube of K-Y from his bag and secreted it in his sporran.

Once again, he checked himself in the mirror. He loved the look and the feel of this unfamiliar garb, the kilt especially. He was hornier than ever, his penis as hard as a chocolate frog. That made the decision for him. He'd have to wear his underpants. He'd feel too exposed and too self-conscious without them.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The wedding itself took place in the parish church, just over a mile from the hotel. Callum and two of his male cousins were acting as ushers, showing guests to their places. The MacDonald family would be at the front of the church on the left-hand side, with their friends behind them, while the Whitehead family and their friends were similarly arranged on the right.

Callum took great pleasure in showing several members of the Whitehead family to their places, especially the boy that he'd spotted the previous evening. The teenager had been allocated a place on the front row, which was reserved for the bridegroom's immediate family. For the briefest of moments, Callum's eyes once again met the older boy's, cementing their unspoken plot to meet later in the day.

The service, which began at midday, went beautifully, inspirational readings and uplifting music giving the occasion dignity and joy. Leaving the church, the newly married couple looked radiant. It was clear to everyone what they were very much in love, and delighted that the ceremony had gone so well.

Back at the hotel, Callum sat quietly with his parents while the wedding breakfast was served. After his morning's work, he was hungry, and tucked eagerly into the splendid meal. Several speeches followed, all mercifully short and suitably amusing. The atmosphere of bonhomie in the room was everything that the two families could have wished for.

Finally, with the formal business concluded, the room was rearranged, with most of the dining tables taken out to create a dancefloor, which resulted in many of the adults gravitating towards the bar. Callum took the opportunity to separate himself from his parents, parking himself on a bench behind a small rectangular table, his back to the wall.

As the disco began, he looked out across the room. After barely a minute, he saw the teenage Whitehead boy striding towards him. His heart leapt. He and the lad of his dreams were actually going to meet.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" the older boy asked, smiling warmly.

"Sure," Callum replied quietly, his heart racing.

"I'm Jonathan," the teenager continued, sitting down next to Callum. "But please call me Jon. And you are?"

"Callum; I'm Catriona's cousin. You're Tim's brother, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's right. He's eight years older than me. I thought you did a great job this morning, showing everyone where to sit."

"Thanks! Aunt Maggie sorted it out. We all had lists, so it wasn't difficult."

"You don't sound Scottish," Jon commented.

"Mum and Dad are Scottish, but I was born in Surrey. Dad works in The City. I don't know what he does exactly."

"So are you at boarding school?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

"I'm at prep school at the moment. I'll be doing Common Entrance next spring."

"Been there; done that!" Jon said, grinning. "I'm in my second year at public school now. It's okay, I guess. They work us bloody hard, but that's what you have to do if you want to get anywhere."

There was an awkward silence, each boy waiting for the other to make the next move. Jonathan assessed the situation. The remainder of the bench they were sitting on was unoccupied, and from elsewhere in the room, the table obscured them from the waist down. In any event, nobody seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. He took his courage in both hands.

"You look really sexy in those clothes," he whispered, placing his hand on the twelve-year old's knee.

"Thanks!" Callum breathed, smiling seductively.

Very gradually, Jonathan slid his hand up under the preteen's kilt, enjoying the feel of the boy's thigh, soft and silky smooth on the surface, but firm and muscular beneath.

Revelling in the touch of the teenager's fingers, Callum glanced across the room. Having determined that nobody was watching them, he reached across, placing his hand on the front of the teenager's trousers. It was exactly as he'd hoped. Jonathan wasn't just hard; he was big too. Although he couldn't give exact dimensions, it was definitely large enough to give him a damn good seeing-to.

"Would you like to go somewhere private?" Jon asked quietly.

Callum grinned and nodded.

"Okay, follow me," Jon instructed.

They headed out of the ballroom and into reception.

"Are we going to your room?" Callum asked.

"No, I'm sharing with my cousin. Because he's eighteen and I'm fifteen, he's insisted on having the key."

"It sounds as though you don't like him."

"I don't. He knows it all, or at least he thinks he does. I think he's a prick."

"So where is he now?"

"At the bar, probably on his way to getting rat-arsed."

"Where are we going, then?"

"You'll see," Jon answered, smiling.

He led the way upstairs to the next level.

"This floor is the conference centre," he explained. "But because we've taken over the place, there are no conferences here this weekend. The entire floor's deserted; I checked. Fortunately, however" he added, leading the way in, "the men's room is still open."

"Oh right! Nobody will come up here from downstairs, will they?"

"No chance! They probably don't even know it's here. I found it last night when I realised we'd probably need somewhere."

After strolling into the furthest stall, Jonathan bolted the door behind them. With Jon standing in front of him, Callum sat on the toilet. Reaching up, he undid the front of the teenager's trousers and pulled down the zip. As they fell to the floor, Jonathan lifted his shirt, allowing the twelve-year old to lower his boxer shorts.

Callum's eyes widened. Jonathan's penis was even bigger than he'd thought, a fraction thicker than Mr Naismith's, and more than an inch longer, most of the head projecting beyond his foreskin. Ramrod straight, it stood proudly at an angle reminiscent of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It looked magnificent.

"Wow!" Callum breathed. "That's huge! How big is it?"

"Eighteen centimetres," Jon whispered proudly. "That's just over seven inches."

Wrapping his left hand around the lower half, Callum took the head into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, gradually working his way down until his lips met his index finger. It was the best he could do with one as big as this. After barely half a minute, he pulled away, his jaw aching.

"Are you going to fuck me?" he mouthed.

For Jonathan, it was as though all his Christmases had come at once. In the circumstances, he'd have happily settled for an exchange of blow-jobs. He wouldn't even have minded not coming in the boy's mouth if the lad didn't want it. Instead, he'd been offered the ultimate prize.

"Are you up for that?" he asked.

"Yeah!" Callum confirmed. "I love taking it up my bum! It's okay; I've brought some lube."

Taking the tube from his sporran, he quickly slathered the slimy gel over the teenager's rampant prong. Having handed over the tube, he stood up, shuffling around to face the toilet.

Jonathan had never fucked a boy wearing a kilt, but realising that it was what his new friend wanted, he was keen to give it a try. Lifting the garment right up, he draped it over the twelve-year old's back, exposing the preteen's little white briefs. Holding the waistband away from Callum's stomach, he quickly skinned them down the boy's long, slim legs. Standing back a little, he squeezed out some more K-Y. He admired his prize, breathing in deeply. Being able to fuck a boy as young and cute as Callum was a dream come true.

After smearing some lube on either side of the younger lad's rosebud, Jonathan pushed his index finger right in. It met little resistance. This was it, he decided. Allowing the digit to slide out, he moved in close, lining up his penis with the boy's starfish. He pushed hard. After a second or so, the twelve-year old's anal ring opened up, allowing him inside.

Callum emitted a slight gasp, the teenager's cock stretching him a little further than he was used to. Holding him around the tops of his thighs, Jon continued to push, his penis steadily reaming the boy's tight, velvety tunnel. He thrust over Callum's sex-gland, the preteen's dick twitching and tingling in response.

Callum was ecstatic, the teenager's penis penetrating depths that even Mr Naismith couldn't reach. Finally, he'd got it all, the older boy's pubic bone pressed tight against his bottom.

After pulling back more than four inches, Jon slammed right in again. Within a few seconds, he was fucking the boy with long, powerful thrusts, pounding the preteen's bum as though his life depended on it.

"Oooh! Oooh! Ohhhh!" Callum moaned quietly, the combination of pain and extreme sexual pleasure driving him almost to delirium.

After a couple of minutes, Jonathan reached down. Wrapping his fingers around the twelve-year old's throbbing prick, he began to gently masturbate him. Callum could hardly believe what was happening. Not even his housemaster fucked him like this.

"Ohhhh!" he groaned. "Ohh! I'm going to cum!"

Pointing the younger boy's penis downwards to avoid staining the lad's kilt, Jonathan held on tight as Callum's penis swelled and pulsed, little jets of watery boy-juice squirting into the bowl.

The lad's accompanying anal spasms sent Jonathan hurtling over the edge. Resuming his grip on the younger boy's legs, the teenager thrust in one last time. His cock jumped wildly, prodigious quantities of spunk spurting into the twelve-year old's bottom. He was so light-headed; it was only by hanging onto Callum's thighs that he was able to stay upright. After more than twenty seconds, he carefully withdrew, his super-sensitive dick exiting the preteen's anus with an audible slurp.

As he adjusted his clothes, Jon tried to process it all. Almost three years after his first fuck, he'd just had the most incredible, mind-blowing sex, culminating in the longest, most powerful orgasm ever. He'd never experienced anything even close to it. Although physically he was a spent force, mentally he was as high as a kite.

"Wow!" he exhaled, still breathing hard. "That was amazing! It was like the best ever! Are you okay?"

"Sure!" Callum confirmed, grinning. "It was pretty amazing for me too!"

"Thanks!" Jon said warmly. "You're really special! I'm going to leave you to it now. I need to rest for a bit. I'll see you at suppertime. Okay?"

"Okay!" Callum agreed, still smiling.

Although his bum was sore, it had been an experience he'd never forget. As Jon slipped out of the stall, he bolted the door and sat on the toilet, allowing the teenager's spunk to run out. Very gingerly, he wiped his bottom. He checked the toilet paper. It was messy but there was no sign of blood. It was the best he could have hoped for. He really needed to soak in the bath, but he'd have to wait until they returned home for that. Pulling up his briefs, he slipped two sheets of toilet paper inside to catch the spunk that would inevitably trickle out later.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Here you are then!" George snapped, handing over the room key.

"I'll bring it back at suppertime," Jon responded sweetly.

Leaving his cousin to get even more drunk, he headed up to the room they were sharing, feeling as though he was floating on a large fluffy cloud. Just meeting a boy as cute and sexy as Callum would have been good. Never in his wildest imaginings had he expected things to go as far as they had.

Once in the bedroom, he stripped down to his boxer shorts. Setting the alarm on his phone for 6.30 pm, he crawled under the covers and fell asleep.

Woken by the alarm, Jonathan got out of bed and made his way into the en-suite bathroom. Pulling off his boxers, he stepped under the shower, the events of a few hours earlier running through his brain. It had been fantastic, the experience of a lifetime. Callum was one of the cutest, sexiest boys he'd ever encountered, and a quite unbelievable fuck.

But a few things bothered him. Back in his prep school days, when his penis was much smaller than it currently was, he'd spent weeks gently persuading his younger friend to take it up his bum. Callum had taken his now much larger prong without even a hint of protest. As it seemed unlikely that there were any boys at Callum's prep school who were anywhere close to his size, how had the lad managed it?

Then there was the choice of language. When he'd been at prep school, all the boys said `bum' rather than `fuck', as Callum had. While that might not mean anything, he reasoned, it did seem to point to the same conclusion. Someone older than the boys at Callum's prep school had been getting into the twelve-year old's bum. But who was it?

It was possible that Callum had an older friend living nearby. Jon thought that unlikely. For some reason, it didn't seem to fit. Was it one of the boy's older cousins? There were a few of them. But if that was the case, why wasn't Callum hanging out with him? Jonathan rejected that idea too. But there was a further possibility, he realised. Maybe Callum was being fucked by one of his teachers. Although he'd not experienced it at his prep school, Jon knew that it went on. Given the evidence, it did seem the most likely explanation.

After towelling himself dry, Jon put on a clean pair of boxers, clean socks and a fresh polo shirt, together with his best jeans. He felt refreshed and invigorated, ready for whatever the evening had in store. Stashing the room key in his pocket, he headed downstairs. Unless George actually asked him for the key, he'd hang onto it. If Callum was up for some more action, they'd be able to use the room. George, who would stay in the bar until it closed, would never know.

At five past seven, he strolled into the dining room where a buffet supper had just been laid out. He continued into the bar. George, well on his way to getting seriously wasted, didn't even see him. Returning to the dining room, Jon collected some food and sat down where he and Callum had been before. Five minutes later, the twelve-year old joined him. He'd also changed his clothes, and was now dressed in a hooped polo shirt and some very sexy denim shorts.

"Good to see you!" Jon said warmly. "Are you okay?"

"Great thanks!" Callum confirmed. "I had a lie-down, the same as you."

"Later on," Jon asked, in between munching on a chicken drumstick, "would you like to do some more? I managed to get hold of this," he added, producing the room key.

"Cool! So we can use your room?"

"Sure!"

"What about your cousin?"

"Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be down here for the duration. Anyway, let's eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

"Me too!" Callum responded, grinning.

When they'd finished eating, Jonathan strolled back to the bar. George, who was facing away from him, was with a group of late teens and early twenties, and still drinking. Allowing himself a satisfied smile, Jon walked back to the table.

"Come on," he urged, grinning. "George won't be going anywhere soon."

He led the way back to the room. As soon as they were inside, he locked the door behind them.

"Are we getting naked?" Callum asked.

"Definitely!" Jon told him.

After discarding their shoes and socks, they began to undress each other. Polo tops were quickly removed. Shorts and jeans soon followed. Carefully pulling the waistband away from Jonathan's stomach, Callum pulled down the teenager's boxer shorts.

"You're beautiful!" he breathed.

Kneeling down, he took hold of Jonathan's penis, guiding it into his mouth. He sucked it steadily, gradually working his way down until he was taking almost five inches. Jon stroked the twelve-year old's hair, urging him on. Even though the lad couldn't take his full length, it was still the best blow-job he could remember.

Callum managed longer than he had the first time, but within a minute, his jaw began to ache. Easing himself away, he got to his feet.

"Time these came off!" Jon announced, pulling down the preteen's skimpy white briefs. "You're gorgeous!" he added, his eyes sparkling.

Dropping onto his knees, he devoured the younger lad's hard, four-inch spike, sucking it hungrily. Following Jon's example, Callum ran his fingers through the teenager's straight blond hair. All too soon, he felt his balls begin to churn.

"Oooh, stop!" he whispered, a note of urgency in his voice. "I don't want to cum yet!"

Jonathan quickly let him go. Without a word being spoken, they got onto Jon's bed. They snuggled right up, Callum's penis grinding against the teenager's stomach. Over the next few minutes, they took turns sucking each other.

"D'you know what a sixty-nine is?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah! Never done one though!"

"Want to try it?"

"Yeah!"

Jon lay on his back. Kneeling over him, Callum attempted to get into the required position, but he wasn't tall enough. With the teenager's cock in his mouth, his own penis was somewhere below Jonathan's chin.

"Don't worry!" Jon said reassuringly. "Let's try this instead!"

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Jon ran his tongue up the preteen's crack and over his rosebud.

"Ohhhh!" Callum gasped. "That feels incredible!"

Taking hold of Callum's thighs, Jonathan pushed harder, working his tongue right into the twelve-year old's starfish, the younger lad moaning and gasping in response. But intensely enjoyable though it was, Jon couldn't sustain the position for long. As they snuggled up again, the teenager's curiosity finally got the better of him.

"So, have you got an older friend at school?" he asked, looking right into Callum's eyes.

"Yes! James is the school cricket captain. He's really nice!"

"Big cock?"

"About five inches, I'd guess, and thicker than mine. Nowhere like your size though! I go with one of my dorm mates too. Damian's been my best friend since the day we started. Early in the morning, he gets into my bed, takes off my pyjama shorts and fucks me. He's not much bigger than I am, but I love having his dick up my bum!"

"Cool!" Jon acknowledged, taking it all in. It was okay as far as it went, but he knew it wasn't the whole story. He took a deep breath.

"There's someone else, isn't there?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Your older friend's nowhere like as big as I am. You just said so. But you took mine, no problem. So who else has been fucking you?"

"Do I have to say?"

"No, you don't have to," Jon assured him. "But it'd be nice if you did."

"My housemaster, Mr Naismith."

"That sounds much more like it. I'd guess he must be about the same size as me."

"Actually, he isn't. His dick's almost as thick as yours, but it's only about six inches long."

"And do you like having it inside you?"

"Yeah, I love it, especially when he spunks!"

"So does he make you cum while he's fucking you?"

"No, he likes to suck me off afterwards. But don't lets' talk about him; I'd much rather do it with you!"

"Really? Why's that?"

"Well, you're much better looking than he is. I mean, he's nearly thirty! And you've got a bigger cock!"

"You like big ones, then?"

"Yeah! I love them! The way you did me earlier on was amazing! Not even Mr Naismith can fuck me like that!"

"Wow!" Jon whispered, glowing with pride. "Do you want it again, or are you still a bit sore?"

"Of course I want it!"

"Great! But we've got plenty of time. Let's do it properly. I want to lick you out first."

With Callum on all-fours, Jonathan went back to working his tongue into the twelve-year old's rosebud.

"Oooooh!" Callum groaned quietly. "That feels fantastic! Oh, yeah!"

After a couple of minutes, Jon pulled away.

"Have you got the lube?" he asked.

"Yeah," Callum responded, quickly retrieving it from the pocket of his shorts.

Having smeared some on either side of the twelve-year old's starfish, Jon inserted his index finger, pushing it in as deep as he could.

"You needn't bother with that," Callum told him. "I'm ready. Just put some on your dick."

Withdrawing his finger, Jon quickly complied. The task completed, he picked up his pillow, placing it directly below the preteen's boy-parts.

"Do you want me on my tummy?"

"Yeah! Is that okay?"

"Yeah! That's the way Damian does it. But we'll need to put a towel there or I'll make a mess."

Having collected a hand towel from the bathroom, Jon spread it over the pillow.

"Right! Down you go!" he whispered, kneeling between the younger boy's legs.

Moments later, Callum was in position, his bum sticking up, his legs spread. Reaching back, he held his bum-cheeks apart. His boy-hole twitched invitingly. Lowering himself into position, Jon guided his cock onto its target. With one determined thrust, he was in.

"Oh yes!" Callum moaned. "Come on, Jon! You know what I want!"

Jonathan knew exactly what the boy wanted, and he was equally eager to provide it. Pulling himself clear of the younger boy's prostate, he slammed back in. Within seconds, he was fucking the lad with long, powerful thrusts, remorselessly pounding the twelve-year old's bum as though the world was about to end.

Callum emitted quiet moans and whimpers, the pain of having his boy-hole stretched subsumed by the intense pleasure that the teen's cock was giving him. His bum was so warm and full. Not only was Jonathan penetrating him deeper than anyone else ever had, the lad's hard teen cock was stimulating his sex-gland on every inward stroke. The tingling in Callum's penis built inexorably until he could no longer stand it.

"Oh, Jon!" he gasped. "I'm going to cum!"

Shuddering from head to toe, he clawed at the bed, his feet flailing. With his balls churning, his penis swelled and jerked, several jets of boy-juice squirting onto the towel. At the same moment, his anal ring went into violent spasms around the teenager's invading prong.

With the whole room shaking, Jon felt as though the preteen's boy-hole was milking his cock, sucking the spunk right out of him. On and on it went, until he had no more left to give.

Finally, it was done. For some time, Jon lay where he was, gasping for breath, his heart thumping against the twelve-year old's spine. Finally, he lifted himself clear. The sensation of being completely spent was even more intense than it had been the first time, his balls feeling as though they'd been squeezed dry. Turning Callum onto his side, he lay down facing him.

"That was out of this world!" he whispered. "You're going to be very popular when you get to public school. There'll be lots of older boys wanting to go with you."

"Will I get to choose?"

"Not exactly. If one of the top boys wants you, – you know, the school captain, the rugby captain, guys like that – that's pretty much it. I guess you could say no, but you probably wouldn't want to. When you're just starting, it can be very useful to have one of those guys looking out for you. Anyway, that was fantastic!"

"It was for me too!" Callum enthused. "It's a shame we won't be able to do it again."

"We might be able to," Jon countered. "How good are you at getting up early?"

"Okay. Why?"

"Could you get down to the men's room in the conference centre for quarter to seven?"

"Sure, as long as I don't stay up late."

"Okay, I'll meet you there, if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, definitely! As long as we get on with it, I'll be back before Mum and Dad wake up."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At half past ten, Jonathan went down to the bar. As expected, George was still there, in the company of the same people he'd been with earlier. He looked considerably the worse for wear.

"I'm going to bed now," Jon said, putting himself right in his cousin's face. "I've still got the room-key. You'll need to come with me, yeah?"

George muttered something incoherent.

"I'll come with you," a somewhat older guy said. "I'll bring the key back."

With Jon leading the way, the two of them left the bar.

"I hope George isn't going to wake me up, coming back in," Jon said.

"Oh, I'll make sure he gets back safely," the older guy said.

The speaker was well over six feet tall, strongly built and clearly not drunk. Jonathan wouldn't pick an argument with a guy like him, and suspected that George probably wouldn't either.

"Thanks!" Jon responded, smiling. "I'll leave you to it!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At half past six, Callum's alarm began to bleep. Having gone to bed at ten o'clock, he was already awake. Quickly turning off the alarm, he slipped out of bed and crept into the bathroom. He'd had a shower the previous evening. As he was about to have full-on sex, there seemed little point in having another one. He'd have one when he got back, he decided. As his parents wouldn't surface much before eight o'clock, he'd have plenty of time.

After a pee and a wash, he dressed in underpants, shorts, polo shirt and trainers. Taking the room key from the table beside his parents' bed, he stashed it in his pocket, leaving the room as quietly as he could. With time in hand, he sauntered down to the conference centre. He checked his watch. It was just past twenty to seven. `I hope Jon's not late,' he muttered to himself.

With nothing better to do, he strolled along to the men's room. `Suppose they've locked the place?' he speculated. `We'll have nowhere to go.' Trying the door, he was relieved to find it open. He made his way inside and positioned himself at one of the urinals.

Unzipping his flies, he extracted his cock and pretended he was having a piss. If anyone other than Jonathan appeared, he'd zip up and leave. In reality, he couldn't have peed if he'd wanted to. Not only had he had a pee a few minutes earlier, his penis was as hard as it could possibly be. With a couple of minutes to kill, he stood at the urinal, gently stroking it.

Suddenly, the door opened. Looking up, Callum saw Jon heading towards him. Putting his cock back inside his briefs, Callum headed into the stall that they'd occupied the previous afternoon, his teenage friend following behind.

Safely ensconced, Callum allowed Jon to pull down his shorts and underpants. Jonathan was delighted. Having the boy dressed in a kilt was very sexy, but it had made fucking the lad quite awkward. With Callum's shorts and briefs now around his ankles, things would be much more straightforward.

Jon was also pleased with how horny he was. His exploits the previous day had left him completely exhausted. But after a better night's sleep than he'd expected, he was fully refreshed, and more than ready to give his younger friend exactly what he wanted.

Sitting on the toilet, he leaned forwards, taking the twelve-year old's penis fully into his mouth. Twisting his head this way and that, he sucked it steadily, using his tongue to push back the preteen's foreskin and lick the small, shiny head.

"Oooh!" Callum whispered, stroking the teenager's silky-smooth hair. "I'm getting close! You'd better stop!"

Slowly and reluctantly, Jon let him go. Without saying a word, they swapped places. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, Callum worked his way down Jon's hard teen cock. He tried to take it down his throat, but it was too big for him. It wasn't important. The way Jonathan was stroking his hair told him that the older boy was more than happy with what he was doing.

With his jaw beginning to ache, Callum pulled away. Taking the tube of K-Y from his shorts pocket, he smeared the slimy gel over Jonathan's cock. As the teenager moved back, Callum stood up, turning around to bend over the toilet.

After applying some lube to either side of the boy's rear entrance, Jonathan moved in close, reasoning that as the kid was used to taking his housemaster's dick, he wouldn't need any further preparation. Guiding his cock onto the preteen's starfish, he thrust it in. It felt wonderful! Holding the tops of Callum's thighs, he drew the boy onto him, his penis advancing steadily along the twelve-year old's beautifully tight tunnel. Finally, he was there, his pubis pressed against Callum's bottom, the younger lad completely impaled.

After a brief pause, he got to work. Driven by pure animal lust, he began fucking the twelve-year old with the same long, hard thrusts that had characterised their previous couplings. The sensations of pure pleasure transported him to a completely different planet. Nothing on Earth could possibly feel as wonderful as this!

Jon wondered whether to fondle the twelve-year old's prick, as he had the previous afternoon, but decided not to. It seemed that Callum's housemaster liked to suck the lad off after he'd finished fucking him. He wanted some of that!

He pressed on, not missing a beat, the intensity increasing with every thrust. Suddenly, he felt his orgasm start to build, his breathing becoming harsh and irregular. It hit him like a runaway train. With his muscles wracked by uncontrollable spasms, he instinctively tightened his grip on Callum's thighs, burying his cock as deep as he could. A moment later, it jerked into action, pumping several volleys of hot, creamy semen into the twelve-year old's rectum.

After a few seconds, he carefully pulled out. Taking a step back, he sank to his knees. Desperate to cum, Callum stood up. Turning around, he found Jonathan kneeling in front of him, just as Mr Naismith so often did. Holding the teenager's head, Callum fed his throbbing prick into Jonathan's mouth and began to fuck. Within a few seconds, it was all over, his clear boy-juice coating the older lad's tongue. After a brief pause, he eased himself away, his penis so sensitive, he could no longer bear to have anything touch it.

For a few seconds, Jonathan savoured the twelve-year old's tangy nectar. It tasted delicious. Finally, he gulped it down.

"Wow!" he breathed. "You make beautiful spunk!"

Getting to his feet, he drew Callum into a passionate post-fuck kiss. As they both understood, they'd probably never see each other again. This really was it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Callum and his parents arrived home just after five o'clock. Callum had found the journey somewhat uncomfortable. Having been royally fucked three times in barely sixteen hours, his bum was still sore. But after a soak in the bath and a good meal, he was almost his usual self.

Callum's dad drove him back to school. On the journey, they talked inconsequentially about this and that. It was what they always did. They weren't close; they never had been.

They arrived just after eight o'clock. Having waved goodbye to his father, Callum immediately reported to his housemaster's apartment.

"You've made it, then!" Mr Naismith said, ushering the boy inside. "Come in! How did the wedding go?"

"Very well, thank you sir."

"And you got to wear the tartan?"

"Yes sir. I should be getting some pictures in a day or two. I'll show them to you."

"Excellent! And did you enjoy wearing it?"

"Oh, yes sir! It made me feel, . . . you know!"

"Yes, I can understand that. Did you go properly Scottish?"

"No sir. I thought about it, but I'd have felt really self-conscious without my underpants. I was hard most of the time as it was." He paused for a moment. "Sir, while we were there, I met someone."

"Do you mean what I think you mean?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Really! And how old was this someone?"

"Fifteen, sir. He was the bridegroom's brother."

"And nice looking, I presume?"

"Oh, yes sir! And he had a beautiful cock! He said it was eighteen centimetres; that's just over seven inches, and a bit thicker than yours."

"Good God! So what did you do?"

"Everything, just about."

Mr Naismith was severely conflicted. On the one hand, hearing about Callum's exploits was getting him seriously turned-on. On the other, he was not at all pleased that the lad that he regarded as `his boy' had allowed the ultimate privilege to a teenager that he'd never previously met. The revelation that the young man in question had a bigger cock than he did simply added insult to injury.

"How did you manage not to get caught?" he demanded.

"Well sir, the wedding was on the ground floor. The next floor up was the conference centre, but because the wedding had taken over the entire hotel, there weren't any conferences. The whole floor was deserted, but they'd left the toilets open. It was Jonathan that found the place. I don't think I would have. He was really nice! He said I'll be really popular when I get to public school!"

"I don't doubt that for a moment," Mr Naismith said disapprovingly, considerably alarmed by this latest development.

"And he fucked you?"

"Yes sir. I was still wearing my kilt the first time."

"The first time? How many times did you do it?"

"Three, sir. That was yesterday afternoon. In the evening, we did it in Jon's room, while the cousin that he was sharing with was down in the bar, but I'd changed back into my shorts by then. Then early this morning, we went back to the toilets in the conference centre."

Mr Naismith was mortified. In the circumstances, he could understand Callum having had sex once. After all, the lad didn't usually have that sort of opportunity during the school holidays. However, doing it three times in just a few hours was nothing short of slutty.

"And when you were in this young man's room," Mr Naismith probed. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, he had me the same way Damian does, sir, lying face-down with a pillow under me."

For Mr Naismith, this was the last straw. He's always resisted the temptation to fuck Callum in that position, having decided that the boy would have found it anywhere between uncomfortable and downright painful. Being told that his young charge had allowed this prodigiously endowed fifteen-year old to fuck him like that, without, it seemed, giving it so much as a second thought, was like a slap in the face. It was time for the kid-gloves to come off.

"That really is very naughty!" he snapped.

"Yes sir," Callum conceded, giving his housemaster a wry grin.

"You'd better come in here!" the man ordered, directing the boy into his bedroom. "Right! Shoes and socks off!" he added, closing the door behind them.

Rather apprehensively, Callum complied. This wasn't quite the sort of reaction he'd expected.

"Okay!" Mr Naismith declared. "Time to get your clothes off!"

Callum stood passively as his housemaster undressed him. In less than a minute, he was down to his briefs. Mr Naismith pulled them right down, allowing Callum to step out of them.

"Now bend over!" the man instructed, pointing towards the bed.

With his feet apart, Callum bent down, resting his forearms on the mattress. As Mr Naismith knelt down behind, his eyes widened. The puffy appearance of the boy's anus, and the chafing to either side, told the story better than any words. Callum had recently been penetrated by someone with a substantial appendage, exactly as the lad had described. Mr Naismith raised his right arm

"That's for being such a naughty boy!" he growled, administering a heavy blow to the twelve-year old's bottom.

"Owww!" Callum protested, his stiff penis jerking in response.

A second hard smack quickly followed. Grabbing a pillow, Mr Naismith placed it in the middle of the bed.

"Right!" he ordered. "Now get on there, on your stomach!"

Like a condemned man going to the gallows, Callum obeyed. Telling his housemaster what he'd got up to at the wedding had been a mistake. Mr Naismith had never spanked him, nor had he ever fucked him in this position. The man was angry with him. He was sure he knew why. Submissively, he lay face-down, the pillow beneath his boy-parts.

"Are you going to fuck me like this, sir?" he asked nervously.

"I most certainly am!" Mr Naismith told him. "I've held off before. I thought you'd find it too uncomfortable. But since you allowed this teenager to do it, . . ."

"Yes, sir, but we'll need a towel, or I'll cum on the pillow."

"Is that what happened yesterday evening?"

"Well, sort of, sir. I always cum when Damian fucks me, so I told Jon we'd need towel."

"I see!"

Unable to think of a suitable response, Mr Naismith quickly collected a towel from the airing cupboard.

"Put this under you!" he ordered, handing it to Callum.

Having spread it over the pillow, the boy lay down again. A moment later Mr Naismith was on top of him. The man's penis speared into his boy-hole, pinning him to the bed. After a moment's pause, the fucking began.

"Uggghhhh!" Callum gasped, hardly able to breathe.

With Mr Naismith being much heavier, the coupling felt far more intense than it had with either Jon or Damian. And although it was every bit as uncomfortable as his housemaster had suggested, Callum found it unbelievably exciting, his prick tingling more and more every time the man thrust into him. After barely a minute, he went right over the edge.

"Oh, sir!" he groaned. "I'm going to cum!"

"Oh, you are such a horny boy!" Mr Naismith responded, before pumping a huge load of hot man-cream into the youngster's bottom.

After a suitable pause, he carefully withdrew. With the deed done, he felt more at peace, his anger assuaged, his honour satisfied. Callum had genuinely enjoyed it; the lad's ejaculation was testament to that. And so, on special occasions, they'd do it again. He'd look forward to it.

Of course, there were issues that he'd need to address. Having invested so much time and effort into the lad, he didn't want `his boy' going to public school, only to become one of the sluts. He'd need to talk to the lad, and make sure he knew the right way to do things. But that, he decided, could wait. Callum would be with him for another year. There was plenty of time.

Fifteen minutes later, Callum headed back to his dorm, reflecting on everything that had happened. It had been an unforgettable weekend. Despite his sore bum, he wouldn't have missed it for anything.