THE HUNTING SEASON
By Pink Panther
I reckon I've disclaimed often enough. You know the score, right?
Thanks for all the great feedback I've received recently. I really appreciate it. Please keep it coming. Send your comments to email@example.com and I'll reply as soon as I can.
And at the risk of becoming tedious, I'll remind you about donations. I'm sure we all want to keep Nifty as a free site, so please help out if you can.
It was Monday afternoon. First Year Games had just finished. Michael and his classmates headed back into the changing room and began to strip off. He noticed that Mr Needham was prowling round again. Picking up his towel, he headed into the showers, trying to put it out of his mind
As he emerged, Mr Needham was right there, staring at him. For a moment, he couldn't think what to do. Suddenly it came to him. He had no need to be nervous. All he was doing was having a shower, just as the school rules required. It was Mr Needham who was overstepping the mark. Well he'd show him!
Giving the games master a knowing smirk, he took his time, making not the slightest effort to cover himself. Finally, he sauntered back to the changing room, his towel draped over his shoulder, his semi-hard penis in full view.
Mr Needham was seriously alarmed. He'd never experienced anything like that. The previous week Whitney had been as embarrassed as all the other boys who had seen him looking at them. But today, far from scuttling away, the boy had blatantly exposed himself.
He was angry too. He was still smarting from the dressing-down he'd received from Newton's father, and now Newton's friend Whitney, who was clearly homosexual, had, in effect, given him a two-fingered salute.
His instinct was to summon the lad to his office and give him a good thrashing, but that, he realised, would not be wise. Whitney was jailbait. They'd crossed swords a number of times. It was obvious that the boy disliked him. He'd make a complaint, and when that happened, other boys might come forward to back him up. It was a risk he could not afford to take.
There was, he decided, only one course of action. He'd have as little to do with the boy as possible. Whitney would still be in his games and gym classes, so he wouldn't be able to ignore him completely. He'd simply treat him as a number. And he definitely wouldn't watch him getting changed again.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Michael glowed inwardly, revelling in Mr Needham's discomfort. As soon as they were dismissed, he headed back towards the main building, an unfamiliar spring in his step. He found Mr Faulkner marking the homework that 1-Green had handed in at morning break.
"Hello," Alex said, smiling. "Well?"
"Mum says it'll be okay. We're going to have a light lunch about one o'clock, so I'll be able to meet you about five past two. We'll be having dinner at six, so I have to be back by half past five, not a minute later, Mum says. Actually, she told me that since she went back to work, it was something she'd been thinking of doing anyway. She says it'll make it easier to get things done at the weekend. So we'll be doing that all the time now, Saturdays and Sundays."
"That sounds ideal," Alex responded. "And you're sure you'll be okay for seeing your uncle the next day?"
"Oh yes. I won't be that sore. If he sees my bum, I'll just tell him that you had a meeting on Wednesday so I saw you on Friday instead."
"I hope that's going to be okay."
"Don't worry, it'll be fine. Since Christmas me and Uncle Jack have been getting on really well. Of course, he'd rather I stopped seeing you altogether, but he won't want to rock the boat."
"Excellent!" Alex said, resisting the temptation to correct the boy's grammar. "At parents' evening I had a really nice chat with your Mum."
"Yes, she told me."
"Was your dad there? I didn't see him."
"No, he never goes to anything like that."
Alex took a deep breath.
"I don't want to be nosey," he said cautiously, "but what's the situation with you and your dad?"
"Mum wanted kids. He didn't."
Alex swallowed hard, hoping that Whitney wouldn't give him any more detail. Mr Whitney didn't mistreat his son. He simply refused to take an interest in anything the boy did.
"Yes, I see," he said simply.
"Sir," Michael said, smirking. "You'll never guess what just happened."
"Tell me," Alex invited.
He listened attentively as Whitney recounted the show he'd put on for Mr Needham.
"You little monkey!" he responded, stifling a laugh. "And?"
"Well, he realised I knew what he was up to. He looked like he didn't know where to put himself."
"I bet he didn't."
"I don't suppose there's any chance we could do something now, is there sir?" Michael asked, giving Mr Faulkner his sexiest smile. "I'm really horny."
"You're always horny," Alex shot back, giving Whitney a wry grin. "Sorry, but we'd better not. We don't want to tempt fate. Off you go. I'll see you on Wednesday."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Thursday afternoon. Alex arrived at the pavilion to take Under-15 football training. Morris, the team's regular left back, was missing. It wasn't a surprise. Etheridge had told him that the boy was off school.
"With Morris away from school, we're going to need a replacement, so Chandler, you'll be playing on Saturday."
Chandler smiled and nodded. He'd been wondering if he'd ever get to play, and finally he'd been given a chance. It might only be for one game, but that was one game more than he'd thought he might get.
"Sir," Rogers suggested. "Morris might be back tomorrow."
"Unlikely, given that he's been off all week," Alex said firmly, determined not to let the boy second-guess his decision. "Even if he was, I'd be reluctant to put him in. His parents wouldn't keep him off school for four days unless he was ill. It'll be better for everyone to let him get recover fully before he plays again. So Chandler's in the team for Saturday."
As the boys trooped out onto the field, he called Chandler to him.
"See me after training," he said quietly. "I want to have a word about Saturday."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
With training at an end, the boys strolled back towards the pavilion. As Alex followed behind, Chandler broke away from his team mates and came over to him.
"You wanted to see me sir."
"Yes. Let me say that with Morris unavailable, you were my first choice to step in, so well done! Now on Saturday, here's what I want you to do. First of all, when we've got the ball, keep an eye on Etheridge and make sure you hold the defensive line. If they're on the attack, you tackle as well as anyone, so get stuck in. Make sure their right winger knows you're there. Don't give him any space. If he gets the ball, close him down and make the challenge. But keep it simple. If you win the ball, boot it up-field. Do not look up and try to make a pass. Either it won't go where you intended it to, or more likely you'll be too slow and they'll win the ball back. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Chandler acknowledged.
The lad looked disappointed, Alex noted. He'd know that Morris often passed the ball out of defence.
"Morris gets in the team ahead of you because his ball skills are better than yours. You understand that. So don't try to copy him. It won't work. Just do what you're good at."
"Yes sir," Chandler repeated, but in a more positive tone.
"That's better!" Alex told him. "We'll see you on Saturday, and just get stuck in and enjoy it!"
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The match was against Welham Grange, who were two places below them in the league. Back in September, the away fixture had resulted in a 1–1 draw. With Northridge still breathing down their necks, winning the home game was vital, and the Woodchurch boys knew it.
For the first twenty minutes it was very cagey, with neither team willing to take any risks. Chandler was following instructions to the letter, Alex noted. Suddenly, Woodchurch got an opening. Receiving the ball near halfway, Archer eluded the defenders and took the ball almost to the goal line. Pulling up sharply, he put in a superb cross. Rogers rose above the defence to power it into the opposition's net.
With Welham Grange pressing for an equaliser, the battle intensified. But the Woodchurch defence stood firm. Chandler in particular was superb, making three vital tackles. The first half ended with no further score.
"Well done, lads!" Alex encouraged. "That's the hardest we've had to work for some time. Just keep doing what we've been doing. As long as we keep defending as well as we did in the first half, the harder they press, the more opportunities we'll get."
The second half began in the same competitive way. Having won their previous four games, Welham Grange were full of confidence and not about to give up. Alex was concerned that Chandler, who was not used to playing for eighty minutes, might flag and start to make mistakes, but the boy was tireless, putting in one challenge after another. On one occasion, having won the ball, he sliced it out of play, but apart from that one blemish, all his clearances landed in the opposition's half, well away from danger.
With less than fifteen minutes remaining, the game finally opened up. A superb exchange of passes overwhelmed the Welham Grange defence and provided Woodchurch with their second goal. The contest was effectively over. The Welham Grange boys had nothing left to give. Although they didn't concede any more goals, their attacking threat had gone. The final 2–0 score-line made Woodchurch's victory look comfortable. In reality, it had been anything but.
The players left the field exhausted, both teams having contributed to a hugely competitive match. Chandler was out on his feet. Alex had never seen his players look so tired, even after their win over Northridge. But that had been fuelled by adrenalin. This was a match that they'd been expected to win, and it had proved much harder than they would have liked.
"Well done!" he said warmly patting Chandler's shoulder. "You were excellent! You worked your socks off! I could not possibly have asked for more."
"Thanks sir," Chandler responded, almost too tired to speak.
Alex went around, congratulating each of his players individually. He'd not done that before, but today was special. The match had been by far the toughest they'd played, and every one of them had risen to the challenge. Even goalkeeper Nicholson, who had been a spectator for most of the game, had made two good saves.
Just as they reached the pavilion, a tall, well-dressed man approached him.
"Mr Faulkner!" the man said, thrusting out a hand. "I'm Graham Chandler, Craig's father. I just want to thank you for giving him a chance. We know it'll only be till Morris is fit again, but it means the world to him to have actually played a game."
"He earned it," Alex said, accepting the handshake. "In training, he works as hard as anybody. And today he was magnificent. He never missed a tackle. I was concerned that he might tire, but he was still running right up to the final whistle."
"You probably don't know," Mr Chandler confided, "and he wouldn't tell you, but he always wins the cross-country race for their year. He's run for the school a few times, but he's football crazy, just as I was at his age. And I need to thank you for helping him with his maths. That's much appreciated."
"I haven't done anything much," Alex protested. "Once he decided he was going to start working, I just made sure he knew what he was doing."
"It was a difficult situation," Mr Chandler explained. "I used to be in front-line sales, which meant I was away a lot of the time. Around this time last year, we became concerned that Craig had lost interest in school. I tried talking to him but it didn't seem to do any good. When I wasn't there, his mother couldn't deal with him. Well, things came to a head when we got his report in the summer. It was awful. When I tackled him about it, he said, `What do you care? You're never here.' Well that really hit home. I did the only thing I could, which was to find a job which allows me to get home in the evenings. It took a while of course, but eventually I found one. I started at the beginning of November, so Craig and I are getting back to being father and son again."
"Well it's made all the difference. Just make sure he knows that if he needs help with his maths, he just has to ask."
"I just wished all his teachers felt the same. Most of them have been pretty good, but there are a couple who've taken the line that because he wasted his time for six months, they're not going to help him now. I was thinking I might have to write to Mr Cope about it."
Alex was incensed. Although Woodchurch was the best school in the area, there were still masters whose stuffy, outdated attitudes were holding it back. He checked himself.
"I think you may need to do that," he said guardedly, taking care not to speak out of turn.
"The situation ran on for longer than I'd have liked," Mr Chandler explained, "but we're on top of it now. All I want is for people to give him a chance."
Alex nodded his understanding. It was what every parent would want.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
With his team on their way home, Alex took a shower reflecting that once again he was about to jump from the public compartment of his life straight to the very private one, taking co-conspirator Whitney along with him.
By the time he returned to the flat, it was half past twelve. He ate a cold lunch. He'd have a cooked meal when they got back. He tried to relax, but found it difficult. He really wanted to meet Southcott. From what Gordon had told him, the boy was an intelligent, lively, mischievous ruffian who threw himself all over the rugby pitch without the slightest concern that he might get hurt. And if he got caught for one of his numerous misdeeds, he took the consequences with total equanimity.
Since the start of the school year, Alex had met a succession of delightfully sexy boys. But having sex with a boy like Southcott might add a whole new dimension, allowing him to do things he hadn't even tried with the other boys he'd encountered.
His concerns were about Whitney. First of all, he was worried that the boy might not make it to their meeting place on time. But an even bigger worry was that Whitney and Southcott might not get on. Whitney and his friends were polite, studious and bookish. They kept away from the tougher, more aggressive lads. But he wasn't going to prejudge the situation. As he'd recently learned, Whitney possessed a steely streak.
At ten to two, he left the flat and drove to the Kings Head. As he approached, he saw Whitney, dressed in his school uniform, trotting towards him. The boy's growth spurt did have its compensations, he reflected. His shorts, which showed considerably more thigh than they had back in September, seemed to fit him like a second skin.
"Are you okay?" he asked as Whitney got into the car.
"Yes, thanks sir," Michael answered brightly.
"Looking forward to it?" Alex probed.
"Of course I am!" Michael answered, a broad grin on his face. "Mr Smith's boys are all very sexy, aren't they?"
"Oh, definitely," Alex confirmed, hoping he wouldn't need to say any more.
He was pleased to find that the boy seemed far more relaxed than he had been on their previous trips. For first time, conversation flowed easily.
"So how are you and Newton getting along?" he asked.
"Oh, really well, sir," Michael told him, smiling warmly. "He's the best friend I've ever had. I'd love to have sex with him, but I'm not going to start anything. I'd never forgive myself if he didn't want to be friends with me anymore."
"Well, it's good to know you can think with your head rather than your cock," Alex said quietly, trying hard to hide his disappointment.
The message was all too clear. If sex between Whitney and Newton was to happen, Newton would have to make the first move, which seemed unlikely. But then, he reminded himself, stranger things have happened.
As he drove into the cathedral close, the clock was striking three. He parked the car near Gordon's house. Whitney positively bounded out, showing not a trace of nerves. They strode up to the front door and rang the bell. Moments later, they were ushered inside.
"Southcott's in the lounge," Gordon said quietly. "He's eager to meet you."
As they made their way through. Southcott got to his feet to greet them. Alex quickly took in the sight. The boy was immaculately turned out, his tie perfectly tied, his straight dark hair neatly combed, not at all what he'd expected. He was around the same height as Jessop, the boy they'd met the previous week, but looked more robust, his well-muscled thighs filling out his grey school shorts. And although his face wasn't thin, his sharp features gave him an almost hawk-like appearance. But most striking of all were his blue-grey eyes, which seemed to bore into his innermost being.
"Pleased to meet you," Alex said warmly. "I'm Mr White and this is Whitney."
"Pleased to meet you too," Southcott said politely, giving him a knowing grin.
Alex was almost salivating. The boy was everything he could have wished for.
"May we go upstairs, sir?" Southcott asked, smiling at Mr Smith.
"Go on," Gordon agreed.
Southcott led the way up to the choirmaster's bedroom, with Alex once again bringing up the rear. He closed the door behind them.
"Are we going to get naked?" Southcott asked, grinning at Whitney.
Michael nodded. Shoes and socks were quickly discarded. As Alex and Gordon settled into their chairs, the two boys began undressing each other. Within seconds they were naked from the waist up. Alex was impressed. Southcott was lean and beautifully proportioned, with not a trace of puppy-fat.
Shorts were quickly removed. Alex licked his lips. Southcott, he noted, had the most beautifully fuckable bottom. Finally, the boys pulled off each other's underpants. Alex was enraptured, admiring Southcott's uncut penis, a little over three inches long and around half an inch in diameter, more than respectable for a boy who had only just turned eleven. He could hardly wait to get it into his mouth.
"Nice cock," Southcott breathed, running his fingers along Whitney's appendage. "Let's get on the bed."
Moments later, they were lying face-to-face, their penises grinding together. Michael moved his lips towards Southcott's, but the boy pulled away.
"I don't kiss," he said sharply. "It's too girly. Maitland and Holdsworth do, but I don't. D'you want to suck me?"
Michael leant across, taking Southcott's penis into his mouth, his fingers gently fondling the younger boy's marble-sized balls.
"Oh yes!" Southcott breathed, his hands on Whitney's head.
After a minute or so, Michael let him go.
"Your turn now," he said expectantly, looking Southcott right in the eye.
Southcott didn't hesitate, going right down on Whitney's cock, his tongue slashing at the twelve-year old's balls. Michael was ecstatic, his fingers gently stroking Southcott's hair. The tingling in his penis began to build.
"You'd better stop," he warned. "I don't want to cum yet."
Southcott pulled away, licking his lips.
"So are you going to fuck me?" he asked, his eyes locked onto Whitney's.
"Yeah, sure," Michael agreed.
"You fucked Holdsworth, didn't you?"
"Yes, we came here just before Christmas."
"Nice! He says you fucked him really hard."
"I'm not sure if that was here. He lives not far from me. During the holidays he came to my house. I remember I fucked him really hard there."
"Really?" Southcott queried. "I wish I could do that, but we live in Sussex. It's too far. Holdsworth says Mr White fucks really hard."
"Yeah," Michael agreed.
"So d'you like that then?"
"So do I, the harder the better! Mr Smith says he's going to fuck me next week. You've taken his, haven't you?"
"Yeah, a couple of times. He had me sitting on his lap."
"I've seen him do it like that. I couldn't believe how much he stretched Holdsworth's bum-hole. You'll be getting it again when we've finished."
"Well, it sounds like it'll be your turn soon."
Mr Smith passed them the tube of K-Y. Having squeezed some onto his fingers, Southcott expertly coated Whitney's cock. He got onto all fours, but instead of being at the bottom of the bed, as Michael usually was, he was right in the middle.
It didn't matter, Michael decided. He could do it just as well kneeling as standing. He moved into position, guiding his cock onto Southcott's anus.
"Come on," Alex urged. "Show us what you can do."
Michael pushed hard, getting about halfway in on the first thrust.
"Oh yes!" Southcott gasped. "Stick it right in!"
Holding the younger boy around the thighs, Michael quickly gave him the rest of it.
"Now fuck me!" Southcott ordered. "I want to feel your spunk up my bum!"
Michael needed no further invitation. He set eagerly to his task, pumping his cock in and out of Southcott's tight little tunnel. Within seconds, his actions became automatic, his exertions at a level he hardly knew he could manage. Mimicking his teacher, he slid his right hand around Southcott's thigh, his fingers taking hold of the boy's throbbing penis.
"Ohhh!" Southcott gasped.
He bucked wildly, almost knocking Whitney off balance, his cock jerking over and over in the older boy's hand. Eventually, his orgasm subsided. Resuming his grip on Southcott's thighs, Michael got back to his task, fucking the boy even harder. After just a few more thrusts, it seemed that the whole room had begun to shake. He held on tight as his balls churned into action, spunk surging through his cock and squirting powerfully into the eleven-year old's rectum.
Once again, he scarcely knew where he was. If anything, the experience had been even more intense than it had been with Holdsworth. He was gasping for air. It took him what seemed like ages to get his breathing under control. Finally, he pulled out. He didn't dare touch his cock. Even the thought set his teeth on edge.
He looked across. The two teachers were naked. He knew what would happen next. In a few minutes' time he'd be getting his bum-hole stretched. In a strange way, he was looking forward to it. He slid off the bed and joined Mr Smith.
Alex immediately took his place, flipping Southcott onto his back.
"So how was that?" he asked quietly.
"Very good, thank you sir," Southcott answered, grinning broadly.
"Did he fuck you hard enough?"
"Yes, but that was just the hors d'oeuvres. It was nothing like as hard as you're going to fuck me."
"So have you taken one as big as mine before?" Alex whispered, moving up the bed so that his cock was close to Southcott's hand.
"No, but I know I can," Southcott replied, sounding supremely confident.
He took hold of the man's cock, examining it closely. With his thumb and index finger placed directly behind the head, they would just meet. If he moved further down, they wouldn't.
"How about sucking it for me?" Alex asked.
Southcott grinned. He'd sucked Mr Smith's numerous times. He'd have no problem doing it for Mr White. He snaked around, resting his head on the man's tummy and took it into his warm, wet mouth. After a moment's pause, he began to suck. Alex moaned contentedly, stroking Southcott's smooth dark hair. The boy's technique was superb, almost as good as Whitney's.
"Okay," he said firmly. "My turn now!"
With Southcott on his back, Alex leant across, his lips closing over the eleven-year old's throbbing penis. He sucked it purposefully, his hand sliding between Southcott's legs, his index finger homing in on the boy's anus. He pushed it right in.
"Mmmm!" Southcott purred.
A few seconds later, Alex pulled away.
"I heard what you said to Whitney," he whispered right into Southcott's ear. "The harder the better, yes?"
"Have you ever been spanked before being fucked?"
"Would you like to try it?"
"Of course, you'd have to give me a reason to spank you."
"What d'you mean sir?"
"Well, you might say something you shouldn't."
Southcott nodded, give him a conspiratorial grin.
"And of course, if you keep saying things you shouldn't, I'll have to keep spanking you. And do you know what happens to boys who make too much noise when they're being fucked?"
"I think I can imagine, sir," Southcott whispered, the grin still on his face.
Alex couldn't remember the last time he'd been so horny. After listening to what Gordon had told him, he'd been sure that Southcott would enjoy some rough treatment, and he'd been right. He handed him the tube of K-Y.
"Get me ready," he instructed.
Southcott dutifully smeared the slippery jelly all over Mr White's cock. By some margin, it was the biggest he'd taken. He knew it would hurt, but it didn't worry him in the slightest. He wanted it to hurt. It was part of the thrill.
"Maitland and Holdsworth say you make lots of spunk," he said, looking the man right in the eye.
"Well," Alex responded, "you're about to find out, aren't you? Right! Get on all fours, feet right down at the bottom of the bed."
Southcott complied without a murmur. Having placed a pillow where he could easily reach it, Alex knelt down behind him. Whitney's discarded underpants were lying on the carpet. He scooped them up and put them next to the pillow. Holding Southcott around the thighs, he leant in to lap at the eleven-year old's anus, his tongue pushing inside.
"Oh fuck!" Southcott exploded. "You're licking my bum-hole!"
"You need to mind your language, young man!" Alex said sternly, rising to his feet. "You're a naughty boy, aren't you, Southcott?"
"And what happens to naughty boys?"
"They get their bottoms spanked, sir."
Positioning himself carefully, Alex delivered a hard smack across Southcott's buttocks.
"Oh shit!" the boy protested. "Christ!"
"You don't learn, do you?" Alex said evenly.
Maintaining his position, he gave the boy a second, even harder smack.
"Yeowww!" Southcott squealed.
"And what happens to naughty boys after they've been spanked?" Alex asked, responding to the boy's signal.
"They get their bums fucked, sir!"
"Quite right," Alex breathed.
He moved in close, the head of his cock probing at Southcott's anal ring. With one hard thrust he was in.
"Ohhh!" Southcott gasped, beads of perspiration breaking out on his forehead. "Bloody hell!"
Alex gripped the boy around the thighs. He pushed in deeper, reaming the lad's tight, velvety rectum.
"Jesus Christ!" Southcott exploded.
Alex picked up Whitney's underpants.
"Bite on these!" he ordered, stuffing them into the eleven-year old's mouth.
Grabbing the pillow, he pushed it under Southcott's middle, forcing the boy down on top. He was finally in his favourite position, completely in charge. He set to work, fucking the lad remorselessly, his rampant cock thrusting repeatedly over Southcott's prostate. Suddenly he felt the boy shudder beneath him, Southcott's sphincter clamping tight around his cock.
"Oh, you sexy little boy!" he growled into Southcott's ear. "You've made me cum!"
He thrust in as far as he could. His cock exploded into life, sending prodigious amounts of thick, creamy spunk deep into the boy's bottom.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Michael sat on Mr Smith's lap, the man's thick, seven and bit inches thrusting slowly in and out of his bum. His eyes were fixed on the action unfolding in front of him. He was fascinated and horrified in equal measure. Giving Southcott a good, hard fucking was one thing, but Mr White had gone much further, spanking the boy and gagging him with a pair of underpants, his underpants.
But why? Surely it wasn't just because Southcott had used a few swear words. But what other explanation was there? Southcott was more than willing to be fucked. If he hadn't been, he was sure Mr White wouldn't have done it. So why had he treated him like that? Moments later the show came to an end.
"Come on sir," Michael urged. "I want to feel your spunk up my bum."
"And so you shall, dear boy," Mr Smith purred.
He began to thrust much harder. With his orgasm already close, it took barely half a minute. He pressed down on Whitney's thighs, his spunk spurting copiously into the twelve-year old's bottom. A short time later, the man lifted him clear.
Having recovered from his exertions, Alex carefully withdrew, his cock slipping silently from Southcott's anus. He smiled, noticing Whitney kneeling by the foot of the bed.
"Get onto all fours again," he whispered into Southcott's ear. "Let Whitney clean you up."
The boy did as he was asked. Michael didn't wait for his teacher's instruction, licking up the spunk as it trickled down the eleven-year old's legs.
"You lads had better get to the bathroom," Mr Smith said firmly.
As they made their way out, Alex sat down on the chair by Gordon's desk.
"I've never heard Southcott use that sort of language," Gordon said crossly. "Even so, I don't think you had any need to spank him. I can't imagine what you were thinking about."
"I spanked him," Alex said calmly, "because that was what he wanted. We discussed it beforehand. The bad language was the signal that he wanted me to do it."
Gordon looked at him as though he'd gone mad.
"He gets caned quite often," Alex continued. "Why? Is he stupid?"
"No," Gordon responded. "I told you. He gets up to all sorts of mischief."
"Yes," Alex allowed, "but I don't think it's the whole story. You told me he plays rugby against much bigger boys. When they tackle him, as often as not he'll get dumped on the ground with them on top. Don't you think that hurts?"
"I suppose it must do," Gordon admitted. "I hadn't thought about it."
"But he just gets up and carries on. That's pretty unusual. One thing's clear. Physical pain doesn't worry him. I think he gets a kick out of it. It makes him horny. I'm pretty sure that's what happens when he gets the cane. And being caned gives him kudos among the other boys, of course."
"Well that's true enough," Gordon agreed. "Even the bigger boys in his year are wary of him. But what about gagging him?"
"I asked him if he knew what happened to boys who make too much noise when they're getting fucked. He said he could imagine it. So all that swearing was to signal that he wanted it to happen."
"So are you saying that it was all just play-acting?"
"Yes, that's exactly what it was. Play-acting, role-play, call it what you like. And I could tell he was enjoying it. But don't take my word for it. We'll ask him when he gets back."
"Well, I'm not sure how to deal with it," Gordon said, looking thoroughly put out. "That sort of treatment's not my style. You know that."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Alex said, giving his mentor a wry grin. "With a cock as big as yours, you'll keep him very happy."
For a few moments, they lapsed into silence.
"He's a little fire-cracker," Alex said.
"That's what I like about him," Gordon said, smiling again. "He's got so much life, so much energy. And academically, he's outstanding. I know he gets into mischief, but there's never anything malicious about it. He told me a year ago that when he got into third year he wanted to be my boy. I wasn't going to turn him down. Boys like him keep me young."
Alex nodded thoughtfully. He wouldn't have turned the lad down either.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
"Wow!" Southcott exclaimed as he led Whitney into the bathroom. "Nobody's ever fucked me like that!"
"I'm sorry Mr White was so rough with you," Michael said nervously, unable to think of anything better.
"Don't be silly!" Southcott said, sitting down on the toilet. "I loved it! That was the best fuck ever! The more I goaded him the rougher he got. It was unbelievable! I hope we're going to see you again. He can fuck me like that anytime!"
"But he stuffed my underpants in your mouth!" Michael protested.
"Oh, that just made it even sexier," Southcott told him, a broad grin on his face. "Oh, and thanks for licking the spunk off me. That was hot!"
Michael was lost for words. He couldn't imagine anyone enjoying what Southcott had just been through.
"You're mad!" he said, grinning back.
"That's what everyone says. Daddy says `I wish you were sensible like your brother.'"
"Your brother? How old's he?"
"Fourteen, he left last summer."
"Was he in the choir?"
"Oh no, he can't sing for toffee. Do you play rugby?"
"No, we don't do that at our school. We play football, but I'm useless at games."
"Really?" Southcott queried, getting up from the toilet to wipe his bum. "You look like you'd be pretty good. It doesn't matter. Forget I asked!"
"Have you been with Mr Brown?" Michael enquired, taking his place.
"Yes, a couple of times. He's okay, but he's not a patch on Mr White. I like King though. Actually, he's a lot like you."
"Yes," Michael agreed. "He said our cocks look like identical twins."
"Wow! That's really funny! It's true too. So did you fuck him?"
"No, he fucked me. But the next time we meet, I'll fuck him."
"Wow! Do you like him then?"
"Yeah! But I like you too. You make me laugh."
"I hope that isn't all I do for you."
"No of course not. So did you like being spanked?"
"Yeah, but two was enough. That's why I didn't swear after he gave me the second one. I've been caned a few times so I guess I'm used to it. Oh, I don't get into trouble on purpose, but I like practical jokes and dares and things. Sometimes I get caught."
Michael didn't know what to make of it. Southcott was so different from him, but he felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The boy was such fun to be with and very sexy. His enthusiasm was infectious. He couldn't help liking him. He stood up, exposing his erect penis.
"You're hard again," Southcott commented.
"That's because we've been talking about sex," Michael said, carefully wiping his bum. "D'you want to suck me off?"
Southcott knelt on the bathroom floor, his mouth enveloping Whitney's cock. He sucked it intently, the older boy's fingers stroking his hair. Michael was ecstatic, the sensations Southcott was giving him quite exquisite. The last time he'd been here it had been Holdsworth who'd sucked him off. Was one better than the other? He had no idea.
"Oh!" he gasped. "I'm going to cum!"
He held Southcott's head as little jets of spunk squirted onto the younger boy's tongue. After a few seconds Southcott eased away.
"Lovely spunk!" he said, grinning and licking his lips. "Come on! We'd better go."
Returning to the bedroom, they began to get dressed.
"Southcott," Gordon intoned. "Mr White tells me that the little show you put on was arranged beforehand, and that you were happy to take part. Is that correct?"
"Yes sir. It was sort of like a game."
"So you like being spanked?"
"And what about being gagged."
"Oh, I really liked that sir, especially when he used Whitney's underpants. That made it even better."
"Mr White has suggested that when you get the cane, your cock gets hard. Is he correct?"
"Yes sir, it always does."
"So you get a thrill out of it?"
"Yes sir, sort of."
Alex glanced at Gordon and smirked. "Has it ever gone further than that?" he asked, returning his attention to Southcott.
The boy hesitated.
"Come on!" Alex urged. "You know what I mean. And if the answer was no you'd have said so. So why don't you tell us about it?"
"It only happened once," Southcott began. "I was in Mr. Stead's office . . ."
"He's Deputy Head," Gordon interrupted, "known to have a strong right arm. Carry on!"
"He was going to give me six for something or other," Southcott continued. "I can't remember. Well, it was the usual routine. I was standing there with my shorts round my ankles and my shirt pushed up to my armpits. Every time he hit me, my cock just got harder. When he gave me the fifth stroke, I couldn't help it. It just happened."
"And?" Alex demanded.
"Nothing sir. He was so shocked he never gave me the sixth stroke. He just told me to get dressed and kicked me out."
"So he didn't take up the rather obvious invitation," Alex said, licking his lips. "I would have done."
"You mean you'd have pulled down my underpants and fucked me? I'd have liked that. I've never been fucked straight after I've been caned."
"Hmmm!" Alex said thoughtfully. "We'll have to see what we can arrange for the next time we see you. Or maybe I'll stick to spanking you. That seemed to work pretty well."
Michael could hardly believe what he was hearing. The idea of being caned was bad enough. He'd never been caned and hoped he never would be. Being caned wearing only your underpants didn't bear thinking about. Suddenly he was jerked back to reality.
"Whitney, hurry up and get dressed," Alex instructed. "I need to get you home."