Date: Wed, 25 Oct 2017 09:29:38 +0300 From: Ivan Ivanocich Subject: What a Knob pt 2 What a Knob! -- pt 2 The Old School In case you thought we were going to reveal details of Geb or Oleg's development (i.e. the size of their knob's or the presence or absence of pubes) so early in the story, you were mistaken! We have already described that Gena has a full bush,(FUCKING PUBERTY!) and you can imagine that he is wanking daily. This part sets the scene for future activity. Please READ and COMMENT to Vanya. I like your comments! We take the story now on two days to the arrival in the United Kingdom of our Russian friends. There had been some discussion how they should dress for the journey, and it had been decided that they should dress rather formally as they were official representatives. Gleb, of course was a very smart and tidy boy: he always wore the best clothes his mother could afford to buy him. But now, they had been given dark blue suits in Italian style and smart shoes. Of course they had their concert clothes and uniform of the choir in their luggage. "Wow, I never thought we would fly Business Class!! Gena said, as they were taking their seats in the cabin. "Of course, you are important boys," Artem told them. "But don't let it go to your head, Gena". Oleg was also shocked by the fact they were to travel in such luxury. He is a very handsome boy but rather small for his 13 years. However he is well built in the chest and arms and legs, and with fair hair, but turning darker as he progresses into puberty. He is very much shorter than Gleb of course. Until recently his hair had been long at the back in a childish way, but now he has had it cut shorter in a very stylish way. But what he lacks in stature is made up for it in other ways as we shall soon see. As he took off his coat to put it on the baggage shelf, only the most hardened could but be attracted to his firm rounded bottom. In fact, as we shall discover, all the boys, were well proportioned in this feature! But for now we can describe the rounded buttocks outlined in the material, the buttocks parted very nicely and invitingly; as he turned round a very large bulge in his trousers was very noticeable, especially as he sat down in his seat and spread his legs for comfort, the penis pressing forwards against the material. Large balls on a boy like Gleb do not look so out of place, but on Oleg, it is different. Because the boy was wearing supportive underpants which gathered all in the front pouch, the bulge was very noticeable and there was a definite suggestion of a knob bulging sideways of the zipper. We are not going to describe Gleb's features just yet, because we don't want you getting too excited and stating wanking. So the boys settled down to enjoy their flight to London. Meanwhile, the boys at Guildchester Cathedral were discussing the impending arrival of our friends. "Who are these fucking Russians, anyway?" Peter, the head choirboy asked of his friends, as they were walking back to the school after the Evening service in the Cathedral. Guildchester was a very old and beautiful city with its fine cathedral. Unfortunately its once fine cathedral choir had seen better days and the standard of music was not as good as it once was. The Director of Music was finding it difficult to attract and keep boys, especially older boys who produced the best sounds. Secretly, officials, especially the Bishop and headmaster of the school were hoping that it would collapse so that a mixed voice choir could take over. They would give the excuse that the boys' voices had hardened at too early an age and that it was impossible to get boys to sing. Peter, at 13 and several of his friends were already faking their voices and saying they could not reach the high notes and even the 12 year olds were doing the same. "Well, they will be here in a few hours," Jonathan, the second head boy replied. "Fuck, I can't wait to get out of these clothes and have a good wank!" The boys had taken off their traditional robes and surplices were wearing their traditional cloaks and hats over their school uniforms of blazers and short trousers as they walked across the cathedral. "Did you see that pederast looking at us during the service?" Peter added, referring to a young man who had been sitting near the choirboys as they sang. "Yes, bet he was thinking of your knob as you were singing," Jonathan added. "I've seen him before when we sang a concert in the big hall. He had his hand on my arse afterwards when we were talking to the audience. "I've seen him in the swimming baths in the summer," Dan, a tall 11-year-old said. "He was watching boys all the time in the changing room." "Fucking choir: who wants it?" Peter replied. "Can't wait to get out in December. What do you think, guys?" he asked of some of the other boys as they arrived back at the school. "My mum thinks it will be finished next year?" Roger, a smart 11 year old put in. "She says they want only girls singing now, or perhaps some little kids of eight of nine to make it look as if there are still boys. Only Mr. Preston wants to maintain the choir and the traditions." In fact, the Cathedral had been planning the introduction of girls for some years and had admitted them into the school, although, as yet, they were not allowed to sing with the boys. All these changes seemed to be impossible when one walked through the old medieval buildings and cloisters where boys had walked for centuries, but the facade of the buildings concealed a terrible situation of feminism, sin, and political correctness. Until recent times, the chief choirboys had had power over the younger ones, to train and control them in the style of their ancestors, even being able to beat them. Adults generally did not interfere in this discipline. But now, all discipline has been abandoned and an atmosphere of suspicion was everywhere. No wonder these boys felt their life was not worth living and they wanted to be away from it. Just in Peter's short time as a choirboy, the power of `big brother' had increased. No longer was in possible for the boys to walk into the city in their free time without being with a teacher, and not even were they allowed to walk from the school to the Cathedral -- just a few minutes across cathedral grounds, without this `protection'. Surely, the life of boys in the United Kingdom is too protected. It was into this life that our four friends arrived. At the airport they had been met by an official of the Russian Embassy and taken to a special room for passport control. There was also an official of the UK government. The consul official greeted Artem and the boys in Russian: "My dear friends. I want to introduce to Mr Alexander McKnabb of the British government. He is representing the people who have invited you. To the boys' great surprise, the British Official addressed them in almost perfect Russian. "I want to say that your presence he is very important to us. I cannot say so much at the moment, but we want your help in promoting singing in the U.K.. The morale of many choral institutions, especially boys, is very low. This is why we want you to visit and live amongst these choirs for some weeks. We could, of course, have given you special accommodation, but we felt you would rather live with boys your own age." Artem was rather taken back by all this, but recovered himself enough to respond. As he was in England, he chose to display his skills. "Respected Sir, I can only speak on behalf of my friends to say that we are honoured to be here and will very glad to do what little we can to help." He introduced Gleb, Oleg and Gena, who greeted the ambassador formally, Gleb adding in English: "Of course, we shall be very glad to sing and to help, but we would not wish to give the impression to our English friends of -- I think the expression is -- "Teaching them to suck eggs," he added. "I understand that the singing of English boys is very fine," he said. "I am sure you will be received very warmly," the ambassador. He then went on to explain that unusually, the schools the boys were visiting had not been given guardianship of the boys, but according to Russian law, a group of young people travelling abroad on a programme should be under the official control of a leader over the age of 18. "This is of course, you, Artem," and indeed the boy had undertaken official training for this task. Young Gena and Oleg were very shocked by all the special treatment, but cultured Gleb seemed, like Artem, to take it all as normal. This greatly impressed both the British and Russian officials. Artem, of course, had travelled to the West before when he sang in Germany, but he had never been to Great Britain. Soon, the boys were settled in their car and were being driven to the cathedral city away from London. It was rather dark, being late afternoon in November, so they could not see very much except the motorway routes. "Guys, we should really try to speak in English to train you two, Oleg and Gena. Even I and Gleb need the practise, and I am sure our friends will speak with slang and local variants. Soon the car was driving into the cathedral city and to the walled fortress of the cathedral itself. AS soon as they drove into the gates of the school, which was housed in the old buildings once occupied by monks, an elderly priest, dressed in a black cassock, and a Canterbury cap approached the car. As soon as he greeted the boys, there was an aura of warmth about him. At first, he spoke some words of Russian, which impressed the boys because the accent was very good. "Good evening, boys: you are very welcome to our cathedral choir and school," he said, shaking their hands and then stroking the cheek of your Gena and Oleg. He now turned to English, which Artem repeated for the two boys: "My name is Archibald Preston, Canon of this Cathedral -- in fact the oldest Canon of this Cathedral, he added with a smile. I was appointed before the change in law when ages of retirement were imposed, so the authorities cannot force me to retire," he added with a twinkle. "It was I who invited you here." Gleb immediately liked this man. He knew he had a good soul and appeared like his own priests at home. "Excuse me, Father," Gleb interjected. "May I ask if you are a monk or a secular priest? I ask because I understand there is a difference like in our Church." "Well, my boy. In fact, I am a secular priest," he replied, impressed. "I used to be headmaster here for forty years, but now I serve only the cathedral. As you can see, I am still rather active, God be Praised, even at the age of 89." This very much impressed the boys and they accompanied Mr Preston, who walked very sprightly, into the school building. "You know Russian very well, Father," Gena said in Russian. "I studied it at Winchester in the 1930's," he replied, not quite so comfortably. "Wow," Oleg joined in; "it will be great to talk to you." "I have lacked practice over the years," Mr. Preston replied. "But I will be glad to practise again," he added, putting his arms round the two small boys as they entered. Standing in the impressive hall, panneled in wood was a less impressive man and what appeared to be his wife, who was dressed in trousers. "Thank you, Mr Preston: we will take over now. You may go to your rooms," the man said, stepping forward and greeting the four. Immediately the four boys felt some barrier raise up, although all outward appearances were as normal. The man introduced himself as James Barton, the head teacher of the school and his wife, Ms Anna Peters. Artem, in his very assured way stepped forward and greeted his eyes steadily and shook his hand. "Good evening, Sir; I am Volov Artem Petrovich. May I introduce Mironov Gennady Nicholaevich and our great soloist Volkov Gleb Rustamovich. The head teacher was rather taken aback by this formal greeting, especially when Gleb and Artem greeted his wife by taking her hand and kissing it. "Yes, well, do come into my study, boys," the head said, raising his hand as if to invite them to follow. "You must realise, boys, that you are coming to an old and hallowed foundation. This choir has been singing in this cathedral for over a thousand years and it is a great privilege even for you to be here. "What a wanker!" Gena whispered to Gleb, as they entered the room. "Quiet," Gleb replied, as the all took a seat in the comfortable room. Meanwhile, what was happening to the other boys? Instead of being given the usual free time after the service, the 18 choirboys were brought down to meet our friends. It should be explained that although there were over 200 boys and girls between the ages of eight and thirteen in the school now, just the chorister boys lived in the school in the old part, which had until twenty-five years ago been the original choir school. They were in the charge of a boarding master and a Matron, as well as their choirmaster, all of whom maintained strict supervision. So, Peter, Johanthan, Dan and Roger and the others were assembled in their rather comfortable communal room when the headmaster brought in our boys to meet them. The meeting went much better than expected because even the most cynical boys could not but be impressed by the personalities of Artem and Gleb. Our boys were rather taken aback by the rather young age of most of the boys and by the fact that the eldest two were just 13. In turn the English boys were rather shocked at the size of Gleb and the build of Oleg and Gena. Not a few noticed the bulge in the trousers of Gleb and Oleg. They had seen tall choirboys before but the tradition was to leave the choir as soon as possible and, in any case, the ages of pupils in the school was up to the age of 14 only. The boarding master then spoke and introduced some staff, including the matron, who was in charge of medical and other matters. The three boys had been detailed to share with the older boys, but because regulations were strict, not more than four could sleep in a room together. But it had been agreed that on this occasion, an old dormitory, which had been disused three years, but still in good order, would be opened up on the top floor of the old school building. This floor had originally housed all the boys in three dormitories, but because English boys expected better conditions now, new rooms had been built in a special building to house the choir. Peter took the opportunity of some quiet moment when the adults had left the room to speak to Gleb. It seems as if his attitude to the boys was already changing, as he sensed that behind the polite forms, there might be some fun to be had. "These are my friends," he said, introducing the older choirboys. "In fact we are glad you are coming because we can use the old dormitory. It was abandoned three years ago, and only I and Jonathan remember it. It has been closed to us since." "Does it mean we can all sleep together?" Gleb asked. "From what you say, they sound like our own dormitories in Moscow, but perhaps even better!" Peter and Jonathan smiled. They could not help liking the boys who had been pushed upon them without their consent. So, as they had been asked by the matron and the boarding master, they took the boys up the stairs of the old mediaeval building to the floor which had so long been forbidden to them. "Wow, guys!" Peter said. "I remember this so well. It was great up here before that cunt of a headmaster took over three years ago." Then he blushed. "Sorry, Gleb; I said a bad word," -- adding cautiously "Do you know what a `cunt' is?" Gleb smiled: "Do you think we are innocent little choirboys? Even Gena, who knows no English, knows all the bad words in English. Ask him and he will teach you the Russian. AS for me, I try not to use them because I want to be a priest!" There was a silence but he English boys, instead of mocking this ambition, as they would in an English boy, were struck by his good soul and were greatly impressed. "What is he saying?" Oleg and Gena wanted to know, and Artem explained in some detail. As the boys were dragging their baggage with them, the last part of the climb was difficult. "Here, guys, help our friends," Jonathan commanded, taking Oleg's bag. "I remember these stairs. The school was so great in those days." "My father says that it was even greater when he was here when Mr Preston was headmaster. Did you know that cunt -- we call him `The Cunt' Gleb -- (referring to the new headmaster) tried to forbid Mr Preston from entering the school. He could not ban him from the cathedral but had power to do so from the school." "Fuck, what happend?" Artem asked. "There was a scandal from the old boys who complained to the governors and the cunt had to back down. But he hates him!" "I think I would love the choir if he were still headmaster," Dan added: "He is so cool." Just at that moment the boys reached the top floor, up the spiral stairs. "Oh my FUCK! We are here. I never thought to see this place again," Peter exclaimed as they entered the former senior boys' dormitory. It had been made clean and comfortable again but still had the iron beds in a row and the washing place at the side of the room. "Wow! What a great room!" The other English boys said, looking at the high ceiling and beams and jumping onto the bed of their choice. "Just like our dormitories in Moscow, but even a little more comfortable," Gleb replied. "Shall we tell them?" Jonathan said to Peter?" "You mean about the secret room? Yes, I think we should, but we must be careful about the other boys who were not here in those days." Comments to VANYA