You Never Know
A Fantasy by Ivor Sukwell.
Man/boy sex, so don't read if you don't like that sort of thing, or if you know you shouldn't be reading it.
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You Never Know
By Ivor Sukwell.
Eric Hurst gave an almost audible sigh of relief as the school bell announced the end of the day. The twenty-six twelve year-olds who had been sitting in front of him, pretending, mostly without success, to be paying attention while he went through the basics of fraction division again, were mostly clear of the classroom door before the bell had stopped ringing.
Eric was far from dismayed by their rapid departure; the only interest twelve-year-old boys held for him was that, in two years' time, they would be fourteen.
He made a half-hearted attempt to tidy the mess on his desk, and then retired to the back room that served both as stock room and office, flopped into the easy chair he had brought in some years before, and lit a cigarette.
He wasn't supposed, or even allowed, to smoke in school, of course, but his classroom was separate from the main school building, erected as a temporary solution to classroom shortage about thirty years before, and would probably remain so for at least another thirty.
Until a few days ago he had shared this secret moment with Steven Harris, a fair-haired, solidly built boy of fourteen, who had sat in that same chair and smoked his own after-school cigarette while Eric skilfully sucked out his delicious teenage cum. The boy had regularly provided his Maths teacher with that tasty snack for just over three months. Last Friday the boy had informed his teacher that he had acquired a girl friend and so would no longer be able to provide further snacks.
"She's useless at sucking, sir," the boy had told him, "Won't swallow or even let me cum in her mouth. But you know how it is, sir, she's a girl and I reckon I'm gonna be able to fuck her."
There had been no animosity in the parting, Eric was used to the ways of boys, almost all of the thirty-two who had fed him their spunk in the twenty odd years he had taught at the school had gone the same way.
Somewhere in Year Ten, he thought as he lit his cigarette, Number Thirty-Three was waiting.
His contemplation on who that boy might be was rudely interrupted by the appearance at his office doorway of a boy who didn't even make the long-list of possibles.
"What do you want, Ireland?" Eric asked, not at all nicely.
John Ireland was not a boy to raise enthusiasm in even the most dedicated of serial boy-suckers. A shade over five feet tall, a sort of half-way house between being skinny and solid in build, he possessed a face that would not even launch a canoe, much less a thousand ships.
He was also always scruffy, wore a perpetual frown and was also the least well- behaved boy in class.
The boy gulped, obviously uncertain of his actions and words, but managed to say,
"Can I have a fag, sir?"
"WHAT?" Eric almost bellowed.
sir," the boy repeated, and then, summoning up all his fourteen-year old
courage, added, "Harris used to, but he's not coming any more."
That made Eric pause.
If this unkempt specimen knew that Harris had enjoyed certain favours and had now given them up, what else did he know? What might he say?
"I ain't got a girlfriend, sir," the unattractive specimen, said, "So can I have a fag?"
That rang alarm bells in Eric's mind. Loud ones.
But behind that loud clamour there was another sound, fainter, much fainter. It was the sort of sound a belt buckle being undone might make, the quiet hiss of a zip being slid down.
Unattractive of face, unattractive of personality, Ireland was, nevertheless, a boy of fourteen, and he possessed a cock. One did not have to like a boy, Eric reasoned, in order to suck his cock.
"Not now, Ireland. There are things I have to do in the Staff Room."
"Me mum don't get home till seven," the boy said, "I don't mind hanging around."
That, Eric decided, was a clear and palpable offer.
"I shall be going straight home the moment I finish," Eric said. Let the boy make of that what he will.
"I'll wait by your car, then, sir," he said, leaving Eric to make of that what he would.
Twenty minutes later and the boy was there. Eric had the distinct feeling that he was being boymailed and once man and boy were in the car, and it had left the school grounds, he was certain of it.
"Can I have that fag, now?" Ireland asked, and made sure he got it by adding, "I know Harris didn't just come and see you for a smoke."
Dutifully Eric handed over his packet of cigarettes and lighter;
"Didn't he?" he tried to prevaricate.
"It's okay," the less than delightful specimen smirked, "I'll do anything he did, an' I ain't gonna say nothing to no-one about it, no more than what Harris did."
"What makes you think Harris did anything?" Eric tried to sound puzzled, but he knew that by giving into Ireland's boymail and not just telling him to do one, he'd just about confirmed any suspicions that the boy had.
"Dunno what he did," Ireland blew out more smoke, "Cos he ain't said nothin'; but I wants some of what he was gettin'. You looked out for him when he were seein' you an' kept him safe, didn't you."
That was true, Harris had been no angel, but in the three months that he had been having his cock sucked by Eric he had stayed well clear of any trouble.
"And that's what you want, for me to look out for you like I did for Harris?"
For a moment the boy looked vulnerable, not at all the unpleasant little bastard he normally was,
"Yeh," he almost whispered, "An' I'll do anythin' what he did, an' I'll keep me mouth well shut about it."
"Are you saying what it sounds like you're saying?" Eric asked, less unkindly than his usual tone of voice when addressing this particular boy.
"Yeh," Ireland confirmed. He couldn't bring himself to say `please' but his body language did that for him.
"So if I take you home now and tell you to get all your clothes off?" Eric's need for teenage cock in his mouth over-riding all common sense.
"No problem," Ireland shrugged, "Wouldn't be in yer car now if there was, would I."
Eric thought about it for a bit while he drove. Ireland was not a boy he'd ever even remotely fancied; he was scruffy, unpleasant and not the slightest bit desirable, but he was fourteen, he had a cock and that cock was on offer.
In a way, Eric thought, the fact that the boy was not a fair-haired, blue-eyed pretty-looking creature would probably make it far less likely that anyone, including other boys, would entertain the slightest suspicion that the boy was having his cock sucked. No-one would dream that anyone would want to suck Ireland.
"You bring Harris here?" Ireland asked when Eric reached his house.
"First thing you have to learn," Eric told him, "Is that you don't ask things like that and I don't say. What you don't know you can't talk about."
In fact, Eric had only sucked Harris either in school or in the boy's own bedroom, and he had never had him naked either, but he wasn't going to let Ireland know that.
"Told you, I ain't sayin' nothin'," the boy protested.
"And if you want me to look out for you, then I need to see exactly what I'm looking out for." Eric had no intentions of this being anything other than a convenient arrangement; there was no need for him to like the boy in order to suck him.
"What you mean?" Ireland, amongst other things, was not the brightest star in the sky.
"I mean get your kit off and let's have a look at what you've got."
"Oh, yeh," the boy said, not seeming either embarrassed or reluctant. Just stupid. "What, here?" He looked at the window, obviously thinking that any curious passer by could see inside.
"Bedroom if you'd feel safer," Eric offered.
"Yeh, think so," the boy agreed, and once there he began to remove his clothing without further hesitation.
He left his briefs till last, and even before they were off Eric was starting to change his mind about the boy. When those briefs joined the other clothes on the floor, Eric changed his mind completely!
From the neck down Ireland was well worth looking at. A decent chest complete with nipples that begged for attention, a flat stomach and wonderfully smooth legs that had plenty of shape to them.
His bush was small, as one would both expect and hope for on a boy of his age, not yet spreading downwards and spoiling the view of the cock that hung below.
And what a cock! Soft, as he still was, Ireland was considerably bigger than Harris was hard, longer and thicker; a lot longer and thicker. Even if the boy was not a grower he was still going to be a good, six, thick inches, a lot for a boy of fourteen, and complete with a long foreskin.
"That is some cock, John," Eric admired, from where he was sitting on the side of his bed, and using the boy's first name for the first time.
"Ain't done nothin' with it yet except wank," the boy admitted.
"And you do that lots, I hope," Eric smiled, getting a grin from the boy in reply. "Come on, come here," he instructed and Ireland did, close enough for Eric to get his hands behind the boy, grasping surprisingly firm arse cheeks and pulling him in close enough for his dangling and still soft delight to be within sucking distance.
He took the boy's softness into his mouth, and even soft the boy was a mouthful.
"Oh shit!" the boy gasped as his cock went into mouth for the first time, going from soft to hard in what was almost certainly a personal best.
One of Eric's real pleasures was in feeling a boy swell from rest to active in his mouth, starting with his lips right down at the root and keeping them there while the boy thickened and lengthened. Eric had swallowed a lot of cock, but few the size of Ireland's. The boy's gasp of amazed delight as he felt his cock-head push into the tightness of Eric's throat made the effort of swallowing him well worth while.
Slowly Eric eased his mouth back up the boy's now rampant length, his lips savouring every fraction of an inch and pulling the skin fully over the head. Then he poked and probed with the tip of his tongue, easing the skin open and softly poking inside to brush the super-sensitive slit.
Ireland moaned, he'd never even dreamed anything could feel so good.
Eric, one hand gripped firmly round the boy's ample shaft, listened to the little mewling sounds Ireland was making as his slit was teased by tongue. In the past he had mostly confined his ambitions to just sucking out a boy's spunk; the majority of the many boys he'd enjoyed had been willing enough to offer up their cocks for attention but had not been interested in anything beyond that, and, mainly because he taught them mathematics as well as sucking their cocks, he'd been content with that. He was not intending to stop at cock-sucking with Ireland.
He hadn't had to talk the boy's zip undone; he'd had not the slightest interest in the boy or the contents of his briefs until he'd been presented with them, but a cock like Ireland's demanded more than just a simple sucking. The boy was an ugly, sullen and unpleasant creature, but, face apart, he was a superb example of fourteen-year-old boy flesh with a magnificent cock and Eric was intending to enjoy that flesh as often and as completely as possible.
Clothed, Ireland was about as undesirable as a boy can get, and ironically, that made him ideal fuck-flesh; see too much of a pretty boy and rumours can start, but that would not happen with a boy like Ireland. Nobody would believe that Eric was doing `naughties' with such an unpleasant boy; but, then, nobody else knew what a magnificent cock the boy possessed.
Eric's mouth enjoyed that magnificence for a few minutes, one hand holding the firm shaft the other no longer on the boy's arse but cupping his balls instead, and, just as the boy's cock was a superb mouthful, his balls would have been outsize on an averagely endowed fourteen-year-old, but were the perfect match for Ireland's cock.
Judging that he had got the boy to the point where there was no way he would be able to bring himself to want the attention his bits were getting to stop, Eric released both cock and balls and got up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"In you get," he told the boy, "Let's find out if you're any good."
The boy looked puzzled, hesitant, frowning in uncertainty. He knew he'd offered up his cock, but hadn't really expected there to be anything more than that. He hadn't even expected to have to strip, but he'd done that without complaint because he stupidly thought that Harris had been naked when he was sucked. Obviously, his limited mind thought, Harris must have done more than just that, so, as he'd said he'd do anything that Harris had done, he reluctantly clambered into bed, under the duvet.
He was even more uncertain when Eric removed his own clothing. Ireland had bargained on being wanked and sucked, no more. He most definitely had not considered the possibility of being in bed with Eric and wasn't at all sure what to do about it.
His cock was hard and needed to spunk, he wasn't arguing about that, but now it was what might happen before he did spunk that was bothering his very limited brain cells.
And Eric, he couldn't help seeing, was big. He'd be able to wank it, of course, no problem, but what if he had to suck it? He'd never had cock of any size in his mouth but he was sure there was no way he could get Eric's in.
In fact, Eric was not a lot bigger than the boy, probably not even an inch in length, but he was thicker, not a lot, but enough, and, as always, someone else's cock always seems bigger than your own.
All he could do, Ireland `reasoned, if `reasoned' is the right word to describe Ireland's limited brain activity, was to go along with things.
Like any other fourteen-year-old boy, Ireland was fully committed to sex, at least in theory. He wanked three or four times a day, more at weekends when he rarely left his bed before the early afternoon, and, like most other boys, all his wanks were accompanied by lurid imaginations of tits and cunts.
Like most other boys he expressed forceful disgust and condemnation of all things gay. Getting wanked and sucked was gay in a way, but didn't really count. Being in bed with his maths teacher was very definitely gay and certainly did count.
Oddly, the gayness wasn't what bothered him. Not in itself, that is. Obviously, no-one could ever know that he'd gone to bed with one of his teachers, the very limited school-cred he had would be gone for good if anyone ever found out; he'd be shunned, bullied and beaten-up even more than he already was if that were to happen.
The real problem was what to do if he didn't like it?
He was still trying to work that out when Eric got into bed beside him and pulled him close so teacher flesh was in contact with pupil flesh from shoulder to toe.
It felt quite good, his cock pressed against thigh while teacher cock was solid against his stomach.
He could cope with this.
He was far less sure when faces became close and Eric's lips brushed against his own.
He was going to have to kiss!
Again, Ireland knew the theory but had no idea at all of the practical element. He kept his lips closed and even began to wonder why people did this, it was certainly nothing special.
He felt Eric's lips moving against his and then the tip of teacher tongue poking out and working against his still-closed lips.
He began to open his mouth, intending to say that he didn't think kissing was something he was willing to do, but, being stupid, he forgot to move his head first and suddenly he had a mouthful of teacher tongue.
That was the moment to stop things right there, but he was far too surprised to actually do that, and by the time he'd got over his surprise his own tongue was fighting back, wrestling with the one in his mouth.
And then, for some reason, he no longer wanted to stop things.
Normally, Eric would not have tried for a kiss this soon. When he was lucky enough to find a boy who was willing to go beyond just being sucked, he took his time, cuddling and caressing the boy, telling him how gorgeous he was and how wonderful his body felt, before making a move on his mouth.
Long experience had taught Eric that a boy who kisses is a boy who will fuck, and while most boys, if played correctly, will give cock, it's a smaller number who actually want to be fucked. But, since he had absolutely no feelings of affection towards the boy and was simply interested in enjoying as much as he could of the teenage flesh that had fallen into his lap, Eric did his `will he fuck' test straight away.
He was surprised that the boy seemed to respond with increasing enthusiasm, but he never questioned that enthusiasm, simply reached down and took hold of boy cock once more.
Very hard, boy cock; throbbing boy cock.
Boys, Eric knew, love having a hand on their cocks when there's tongue in their mouths, and Ireland was no exception.
He moaned a little without pausing in his tongue twirling, and, without being told, sent down a hand of his own to search for, find and grasp teacher cock, giving Eric cause to moan a little himself.
Cock, Ireland's little brain registered, felt good. He knew his own felt good in his hand, but someone else's felt a lot, lot better! He had no idea, of course, that that particular realisation, once planted, very rarely goes away.
Eric realised that kissing Ireland had flicked to `on' the boy's `More Sex Please' switch, and so he continued to kiss and fondle cock until he felt sure the switch was locked in the `on' position.
Satisfied that it was, Eric pushed the boy's head downwards, and even Ireland's limited mind understood where his face was supposed to go and what his mouth had to do when his face got there.
With no enthusiasm, but still believing he was only doing things that Harris must have done, he opened his mouth wide and took hard teacher cock into it.
For the first few seconds he was tentative, not wanting his lips to close around the thick, hard tube of flesh in his mouth, but then he discovered, as countless millions of boys before him had discovered, that having cock in his mouth was a very long way from being unpleasant.
Race memory took over and he grasped the shaft, guiding the thing properly into his mouth and began to suck.
He soon found that he couldn't get much of it in without gagging, so he concentrated on the top bit, instinctively avoiding any contact between cock and teeth, earning himself some sounds of encouragement from an appreciative Eric.
It was a while since Eric's cock had last been in a boy's mouth – Harris had never done anything more than make his own cock available – so even though Ireland was very much a learner, his oral efforts were very much appreciated.
Under torture, Eric would confess to liking the warm, wet, cave of a boy's mouth a little more than the tight, velvet sheath of his hole. Naturally, Eric enjoyed fucking a boy when the opportunity arose, who doesn't, but the sheer pleasure of having an adolescent mouth obediently working on his cock and eating his spunk was his greatest, single delight.
Unfortunately, Ireland's mouth, completely unused to having seven thick inches of cock in it, tired quite rapidly, and Eric had to stop the boy before there was any serious teeth to cock contact. For now he would indulge himself in the boy's almost as many inches and eat his spunk; Ireland didn't have to get home much before seven and that meant there was still more than two hours playtime left, more than enough time to introduce the boy to the taste of cum.
Eric, as Ireland now fully discovered, knew how to suck cock.
It was a good couple of years since Eric had dealt with anything of Ireland's size. Stephanne had been the last, but he had been sixteen and his cock had been in quite a few mouths before Eric got at and it demanded complete swallowing at all times, so Eric hadn't been able to run through his full range of mouth on cock skills.
Ireland got the lot; from lip-nibbling of foreskin to full, deep-throat swallow.
Drag up with hand and lips as much skin cover as possible, lip-nibble that bunched-up skin, even a careful graze of teeth so the boy was quivering and moaning, every single muscle in him taut, the gently ease that skin downwards, unpeeling the sensitive glans, flick his tongue round and round and tease the slit, and then on down till lips reached the base and cock-head had pushed deep into the tightness of throat.
Eric did that to the boy about twenty times before his young balls drew themselves up, ready to drive adolescent sperm into teacher mouth.
Ireland was a panting spunker, his breath coming in short gasps, neatly timed with one between each shot. He fired three good cannon blasts and followed up with a little scattering of musket fire before he ran out of ammunition and sagged back, briefly exhausted.
Eric savoured the wonderful essence of boy, allowing it to trickle slowly down his throat while Ireland's wet cock slowly softened.
All spunk consumed, Eric sat up in bed, motioned for Ireland to do the same, and pushed down the duvet so both were on display. He put an arm round the boy's shoulder, poked a cigarette between his rather slack lips and lit it for him.
The ashtray was on a bedside cabinet on Ireland's side, so Eric would need to lean across the boy to use it, an action that would involve his arm making contact with the boy's chest; Eric knew how important it is to maintain skin to skin contact with a freshly spunked boy, especially with a freshly spunked first time boy.
Post-orgasmic guilt trips must be avoided, especially if one intends to use the boy again.
"Nice spunk," Eric told him .
Ireland managed a very weak smile – his brain cell had almost shorted out with sensation overload and he was actually pathetically grateful to have an arm round his shoulder and be told that he produced nice spunk.
He didn't seem to be bothered at being exposed to Eric's view from head to knee, and he made no hint of protest when, cigarette finished, Eric began to stroke his thighs.
They were, Eric decided, actually rather nice thighs, enough meat on them to give them some shape without straying towards being fat, and they were utterly and completely smooth. Not even a hint of fuzz.
To be fair, Eric thought as he surveyed the naked boy, even leaving out his cock and balls, apart from his face the boy was more than half-decent bedflesh.
It was time to decide what to do.
By no stretch of the imagination was the naked boy sitting in bed beside him a pleasant example of the young, adolescent male.
He was sullen, surly, ill-mannered, scruffy and unkempt. He was ugly, ignorant and stupid, and, as far as Eric could judge on classroom evidence, devoid of friends.
Dressed he wasn't worth a second glance. Naked he was well worth looking at.
He had a more than reasonable body, very nice smooth legs and an amazing cock.
This unpleasant specimen wanted to impose himself on Eric, use his office as some sort of sanctuary. In return all he had to offer was his flesh. It was a complete no-brainer.
"Right, John," Eric said, moving his hand up smooth boy thigh and cupping boy balls, "What is it that you're after?"
Ireland struggled; thinking was far from easy for him and this was a complex question to answer. "Same as Harris," he eventually managed.
"I think it's more than that," Eric said; "Harris came to my office at break and lunchtimes as a way of keeping out of trouble. You have a different reason."
"Bit," Ireland agreed.
"Get's the piss taken outa me all the time," Ireland muttered, "An' punched an' stuff."
"Because you're a thick, unpleasant little shit," Eric stated as he softly jiggled the boy's balls in their wrinkled but delightfully hairless sac.
"Spose," Ireland accepted.
"And you want to use my office to escape from being bullied?"
"And if you do that, then every time you use it I will expect to be able to get my hand inside your pants and have a decent snog."
Eric's hand moved from balls to cock, a cock that was slowly beginning to show signs of life again.
"Yeh, that's okay," Ireland agreed, "Said I'd do what Harris did, didn't I."
"And did you enjoy doing it?"
"Spose," Ireland shrugged before having an uncharacteristic spasm of honesty, "Was pretty good, I spose. Ain't never done nothin' before."
"Well, you'll be doing quite a lot from now on. I shall want you in bed at every possible opportunity."
Ireland's cock continued its return to life.
"Yeh," he consented, "Told you me mum don't get home till seven."
"That sounds reasonable," Eric nodded, now squeezing an almost fully upright cock. "You do have quite a lot still to learn."
"Spose," Ireland acknowledged, "You ain't fucked me yet."
"You want to be fucked?"
"Don't mind. Gonna happen anyway, ain't it."
"True," Eric agreed, now slowly wanking Ireland's hardness.
"An' I can stay over at night sometimes if you wants to sleep with me an' all. Don't mind if you does."
"I does," Eric grinned and stopped talking so he could start sucking Ireland's cock again.
`You never know,' he thought as he slid his lips down the boy's shaft, `You just never know where the next bit of fuckflesh is going to come from.'
There could be more to this school story; do you think there should be?