THE HUNTING SEASON
by Pink Panther
Back again! Sorry it's taken a while, but life keeps getting in the way. We've finally reached the end of the Autumn term. With time on their hands, Alex and the boys get up to all sorts of naughty things, so read on and enjoy! And in case you were wondering, no, I'm not going to disclaim. I did that quite often enough earlier in the story.
Thanks for the feedback to chapter 40, it was very encouraging. But I'm a feedback-junkie, so more is always welcome. Please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org and I'll get back to you as soon as you can.
One last point: if you're enjoying this story, please consider making a donation to Nifty. It's readers donations that enable Nifty to operate as a free site, so please give what you can.
It was Monday lunchtime. Alex strolled into the staff workroom. He picked up 1-Blue's reports, flicking through them until he came to Bradshaw's. His protégé had scored one hundred per cent on his maths exam, but Alex wanted to know how he was doing elsewhere. He read through the report. It seemed that the lad did not excel in either art or music, though his marks placed him comfortably in the top half of his form. In every other subject, he was at or close to the top, exactly as Alex had hoped. Overall, he'd finished top of 1-Blue by a considerable margin.
He moved on to 1-Red, a group he didn't teach. Two thirds of the way through the pile of reports, he found Pennington's. It was a total contrast. In his form, the lad had finished eighteenth out of thirty-two. Though he was not doing poorly, he didn't excel at anything. The comments spelt it out. He did what he was required to do, and nothing more. Somehow it seemed to fit.
Alex's predictions about his own form, 2-Green, had proved correct. Grainger had finished top, with Newton a close second, relegating the self-obsessed Carver into third place. On learning of this, Carver had immediately started to make excuses. Alex would have to talk to him about it. It was not a task he relished, but he would have to do it. Much as he disliked the lad, he had the same professional responsibility for Carver as he did for all the other boys.
On a more pleasing note, the ever-industrious Whitney had retained his place in the form's top ten. Alex knew that this was due in no small measure to the boy's close friendship with Newton, who was an excellent student. Whitney had worked his socks off in an effort to keep up.
Alex was keen to see the relationship blossom further than it already had, but Whitney, it seemed, was unwilling to give up having sex with other boys in order to make that happen. At some point, it seemed inevitable that Newton would find someone else, or more likely that someone else would find him, and together they would build the sort of one-to-one relationship that Newton so obviously wanted.
For Alex, it was a difficult situation. He couldn't tell Whitney what to do. It simply wouldn't work. And as Gordon has pointed out, in the short term, the lad did have his uses. But Alex knew that nobody can enjoy the best of both worlds indefinitely. He was concerned that unless Whitney changed his ways soon, he'd lose his relationship with Newton. That would be a heavy price for the lad to pay.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was half past six when the telephone rang. Alex quickly picked it up.
"Alex," the familiar voice said, "It's Martin. I've spoken to Arrowsmith. He can stay here for an extra couple of days, but there is one problem. On Thursday, he'll have to be home by half past five at the very latest. Now what I was thinking was that he could bring his things with him when we come over to yours. Afterwards, I'll have to get back to school, but I was wondering if you could drive him home? He lives near Horsham. It shouldn't take you more than an hour."
"Won't his parents wonder why a complete stranger is dropping him off?"
"Oh, there's no chance of that. Arrowsmith's parents rarely come to the school, and they certainly don't know all the staff. If they ask, he'll simply tell them it was Mr Brooks, one of the younger masters who's been helping me this week. They probably won't even notice."
"In that case, it sounds an excellent idea," Alex agreed, "as long as Arrowsmith's keen to do it."
"Oh, he definitely is," Martin assured him. "And he's been as good as gold the last few days, accompanying the other instrumentalists. To be honest, I think he gets bored at home."
"Fair enough, then!" Alex said. "We'll see you on Thursday afternoon."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Wednesday morning. Michael stretched out on his bed, his arm around Chris's back. Chris turned towards him, their lips meeting in a sensuous kiss. Michael was supremely happy. They'd just had wonderful sex. It wasn't as exciting as some of the other things he did, but Chris gave him a sense of togetherness in a way that no-one else could. He felt completely at peace, as though in a place where nothing could touch him. Only Chris could do that for him.
"Are you coming to mine this afternoon?" Chris asked, looking right into his eyes.
"Yes, of course," Michael confirmed. "I'm yours for the whole day."
"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Chris asked.
"Sorry, I'm going to be busy tomorrow."
"Going somewhere with Mr Faulkner?"
"Actually, I'm not," Michael said firmly. "You remember Simon Holdsworth, don't you?"
"Hmmm, cute, blond, not very big but has a really nice cock."
"That's him. Well, a couple of weeks ago, he called me to ask if I'd like to go over to their school. I can get there on the train. It's only two stops, so I said I would. The thing is, being one of the choristers, he has to stay in school until Christmas morning to sing in all the services. The rest of the boys went home last Friday. That means at the moment there are twenty-odd choristers in a school that usually houses a hundred and fifty boys. Simon's been there since he was eight and knows every inch of it. He reckons there are lots of places we can go where nobody will find us. Well, they rehearse every morning. After that, they have recreation for the rest of the day unless there's a service they have to sing at."
"That does sound like fun!" Chris said, smiling,
"I'd have invited you to come with me," Michael said, "but I'm not quite sure what Simon's got planned."
"Oh, that's fine," Chris said casually. "So when will we be able to get together again?"
"Next Tuesday morning. Of course, we'll see each other before that. We just won't be able to do anything."
"Then I guess I'll have to be patient, won't I?" Chris said, gently nuzzling Michael's ear.
Michael smiled contentedly. Chris was so understanding. As long as he didn't lie about what he was doing, Chris didn't seem to mind. Of course, he had glossed over the details. For a start, he knew exactly what they had planned. But that didn't matter. As long as Chris knew where he was going and who he was with, he was happy. Things could hardly have been better.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was almost lunchtime. Alex drove towards his flat, basking in a glorious afterglow. He'd just dropped Bradshaw near his home. Earlier that morning, they'd had a most stimulating maths session, which had been followed by quite unbelievable sex. Bradshaw was exceptional in every way. Their relationship had gone way beyond anything he had expected.
He needed to be realistic, Alex reminded himself, and make the most of it while it lasted. If he didn't, he could spend the rest of his teaching career trying to replicate it. That would be like searching for life on another planet. In all probability, he'd never succeed.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Thursday. Dressed, as instructed, in his school uniform, Michael stepped down from the train and onto the platform. He strode briskly towards the ticket hall feeling unusually relaxed. Less than two hours earlier, he'd telephoned Mr Smith to confirm the arrangement, and had been told that everything was to go ahead as planned.
In any case, the worst that could happen would be for Holdsworth not to show up. That would be a major disappointment, but as he had enough money for the train fare home, it wouldn't be a real problem. Emerging into the ticket hall, he saw his blond friend waiting for him. He strolled across.
"Hi!" Simon greeted, trying in vain to suppress a giggle. "Good to see you!"
"Hi!" Michael responded. "What's amusing you?"
"Your shorts!" Simon whispered. "They look like you've been poured into them!"
"Yeah," Michael conceded, looking a little uncomfortable. "I've had them since Easter. Mum said they'd have to last me till Christmas, which they have, just about. But they are very tight now. Mr White likes them, of course."
"Oh, he would!" Simon acknowledged, smirking.
"Actually, it's been getting a bit embarrassing," Michael admitted. "About half the boys in our year are already wearing long trousers. Apart from Chris, anyone who's anywhere close to being as tall as me is already wearing them. I stand out like a sore thumb. Anyway, I'll be having some long trousers for when we go back to school. Chris will too."
"Hmmm!" Simon commented. "Mr White will be disappointed. Of course, we have to wear shorts till the day we leave, even in the depths of winter."
They headed out of the station into the watery winter sunshine.
"We can walk back to school if you like," Simon suggested. "It'll only take us about ten minutes."
"Okay," Michael agreed.
They turned onto the high street.
"Does Southcott know what we're going to do?" Michael asked.
"Of course not, silly!" Simon answered. "That's the whole point. When Marchant and Johnstone did it to me, I didn't have a clue. I hadn't even expected them to be there."
"Oh, right!" Michael said, grinning. This was going to be even more of an adventure than he'd expected.
At the far end of the high street, they crossed the green and entered the Cathedral Close. Finally, they reached the house. Simon rang the bell. A moment later, Mr Smith appeared.
"Bright eyed and rosy cheeked!" he commented, welcoming them inside. "I take it you walked."
"Yes sir," Simon replied, smiling. "It's a wonderful day out there."
"Have you had lunch?" Mr Smith asked, turning to Michael.
"Yes sir," Michael said. "I had some sandwiches on the train, and an apple."
"Excellent! But I don't imagine you'd turn down a glass of lemonade and a slice of Christmas cake, would you?"
"No sir! Thank you, sir!"
They entered the lounge.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Mr Smith instructed.
The boys sat on the sofa. Mr Smith went through to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with glasses of lemonade and slices of Christmas cake.
"Southcott should be here by two o'clock," Mr Smith announced.
"He doesn't know we're going to be here, does he, sir?" Michael asked.
"No, this will be his Christmas surprise. It seems rather appropriate. He gives the other boys lots of surprises."
A little before two o'clock, the doorbell rang. Simon and Michael looked at each other, grinning. They were about to put their plan into action. Moments later, Southcott appeared.
"Hey!" he said, smiling. "I wasn't expecting to see you two."
"No, we thought we'd give you a surprise, have a bit of fun together."
"Yeah!" Southcott enthused. "That's a bonus I wasn't expecting! You can surprise me like that any time! Are we going up to your bedroom, sir?"
Mr Smith nodded. Southcott led the way, bounding up the stairs, the others trailing in his wake. After removing their outer clothing, the boys set to undressing each other. In less than a minute, they were all naked, their cocks at full mast. While Mr Smith watched from the comfort of his armchair, they got onto the bed.
Southcott was immediately the centre of attention. It was what he expected. Things began with Whitney sucking Southcott's penis while the younger boy sucked Holdsworth's. After a couple of minutes, they two older lads swapped over. Things ratcheted up a little. Not only was Holdsworth sucking Southcott's prick, he was working K-Y into the younger lad's anus.
Southcott was totally unconcerned. He knew the two older boys were going to fuck him. He'd realised that the moment he'd seen them. Once they'd finished, he'd go and sit on Mr Smith's lap and get fucked for a third time. He ran his lips up and down Whitney's long, slim prong, relishing the prospect. A few minutes later, they disengaged. Simon turned onto his back.
"Lie on top of me," he instructed, "on your back, legs apart, so you're sitting on my cock."
Southcott was a little surprised. Holdsworth had never fucked him that way before, but he wasn't going to object. Placing his feet to either side of Holdsworth's knees, he slowly lowered himself onto the lad's substantial appendage until he was completely impaled. Finally he lay right down, feeling the older boy's heart pounding against his spine.
Getting back onto the bed, Michael knelt between Holdsworth's legs. Southcott grinned. Now he understood, or at least he thought he did. Whitney was going to suck him off while Holdsworth was fucking him. He'd have a dry-cum in Whitney's mouth while Holdsworth's spunk was spurting into his bum. Then the older lads would swap over. He really liked that idea!
"Oh fuck!" Southcott protested, the pain quite indescribable.
"That's exactly what we're going to do; we're going to fuck you, me first, then Holdsworth," Michael told him.
He began to fuck. It felt strange, having his cock trapped between his friend's erection and Southcott's anal ring, but it was hugely exciting. Within seconds Southcott's whimpers and grimaces turned to moans of pleasure. Suddenly he began thrashing around, his fingers gripping the bed covers. His penis jerked wildly. A bead of clear fluid jumped out of his pee-hole and landed on his navel. In an instant, Michael's orgasm was upon him. He thrust in one last time, several volleys of teen-spunk spurting deep into Southcott's rectum.
"Your turn now!" he gasped.
As Whitney held his position, Simon got to work. To his amazement, Southcott began thrashing around again. Another bead of liquid emerged from his pee-hole, running down the head of his penis until it encountered his foreskin. From there, it continued its descent, attached to his penis by a fine translucent thread. Finally, the bead reached his stomach, breaking the thread.
Having had his cock stimulated, first by rubbing against Whitney's, and then by Southcott's boygasm, Simon was already very close. After just a couple more thrusts, he was there too, depositing a second load of cum in Southcott's bottom.
A few seconds later, Michael carefully withdrew, allowing Southcott to lift himself clear of Holdsworth's penis.
"Well done!" Mr smith congratulated. "Now come here. It's time for you to sit on my cock."
Somewhat apprehensively, Southcott did as he was asked. He'd sat on his choirmaster's ram-rod more times than he could count, but this was different, his bum already extremely sore. Very carefully, he lowered himself into position.
"So which of you two is going to do the honours?" Mr Smith asked.
"I will, sir," Michael said.
As Southcott placed his feet on the end of the bed, Michael got down on all fours facing him, his lips closing over the lad's prick. As Southcott held Whitney's head. Mr Smith began to fuck. Within seconds, the younger boy was well into it, his whimpers turning to moans of pleasure, his boy-prong throbbing with his heartbeat. Suddenly, his grip tightened, his cock swelling and pulsing in Whitney's mouth.
"Good boy!" Mr Smith breathed. "Time for me to fill your bottom!"
A few seconds later, it was all over. Mr Smith carefully lifted Southcott off his penis.
"I never thought I'd say this," Southcott said, "But taking Mr Smith's cock was a piece of cake compared to taking both of yours at the same time."
"Well, you certainly seemed to enjoy it," their host pointed out. "You came twice!"
"Oh yeah!" Southcott agreed. "It was the biggest turn-on ever, but it hurt like hell. What gave you the idea?"
"Last summer," Simon explained, "Johnstone and Marchant did it to me. And just in case you're wondering, I didn't know it was coming either. I had a sore bum for a few days, that's all."
"But tomorrow, I've got to sing a solo at evensong!" Southcott protested.
"Ooops!" Simon said, looking a little guilty. "I didn't know about that."
"Really Southcott," Mr Smith said. "You're the biggest ruffian I've ever encountered. You've been caned numerous times. I'm surprised you're making so much fuss!"
"Yes sir" Southcott responded. "I loved it; it was incredible, but it hurt more than any caning ever has. My arse feels like it's on fire!"
"Shall I look after him sir?" Simon suggested. "Give him a bath?"
"Yes, I think that would be a very good idea," Mr Smith agreed.
Simon gently escorted Southcott out of the room.
"What time do you have to be home?" Mr smith asked.
"Five o'clock, sir," Michael told him.
"Oh, we've got plenty of time!" the choirmaster declared.
It was twenty minutes before Holdsworth and Southcott reappeared. Michael and Mr Smith were already dressed.
"He's weird," Southcott announced. "One minute he's fucking me senseless, the next minute he's fussing over me like a mother hen!"
"Hmmm!" Mr Smith said thoughtfully. "You describing someone else as weird does sound rather like the pot calling the kettle black. The question is, do you feel better now?"
"Yes sir." Southcott answered.
"And are you going to be okay to sing your solo tomorrow?"
"Then I suggest you thank Mother Hen very nicely."
"Thanks," Southcott said, grinning at Holdsworth.
"Right!" Mr Smith said firmly. "You two had better get dressed and get back to school. Whitney, I believe Holdsworth promised you a ride in my new machine?"
"Good! Then as soon as I've got these two off the premises, we'll be on our way."
Five minutes later, Michael was on his way home. Mr Smith's Jaguar certainly was posh, far outstripping his father's Austin Cambridge. It was smooth and powerful too, the large six-cylinder engine providing seemingly effortless acceleration.
Looking out of the window, he reflected on the events of the afternoon. It had been fun, playing a trick on Southcott like that, especially as the lad was such a tough guy and risk-taker. But Southcott really was strange. For him, it seemed, pain was part of the thrill. He'd got so excited, he'd cum three times in less than ten minutes. And as an added bonus, he was starting to make spunk. He'd only produced a couple of drops each time, but it wouldn't be long before he was able to squirt properly. That was definitely something for him to look forward to.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex checked the time. It was almost half past two. He made the final turn, and drove towards the Kings Head. He was apprehensive, not entirely confident that Pennington would be there. As he approached the appointed meeting place, Alex could see no sign of the lad. Gritting his teeth, he slowed the car to a halt. With Arrowsmith having remained at school especially for the occasion, the younger boy's non-appearance would be a major embarrassment. Suddenly, he spotted the youngster hurrying towards him.
"Sorry, sir!" Pennington said, quickly getting into the car. "The bus was late."
"Fair enough," Alex said indulgently, "but if we do this again, you must plan to get into town early, so that I don't have to wait. That could have got rather awkward."
"Yes sir. Sorry sir!"
Alex glanced across. Pennington didn't have Bradshaw's intelligence or competitive instincts; neither was he as hard working and reliable as Whitney. But sitting there, with his legs apart and his shorts showing off at least half his thighs, the twelve-year old was as delightful a specimen of boyhood as one was likely to see.
"I've invited a couple of friends to come over," he said quietly. "Mr Brown's a little older than me, but looks more like seventeen or eighteen. He teaches at a boarding school a few miles away. Arrowsmith's one of his pupils. He's nearly thirteen. They're both very nice. I'm sure you'll like them."
"Yes sir," Pennington said, noticeably excited.
"To start with," Alex went on, "Mr Brown will undress you. He'll suck your cock and ask you to suck his. Once you've done that, you'll have sex with Arrowsmith, who'll fuck you. Finally, Mr Brown will fuck you while I fuck Arrowmith. They're both smaller than I am, so there's nothing for you to worry about." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. "And whenever you meet one of my friends," he concluded, "you're to refer to me as Mr White, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Pennington replied, grinning. "You're Mr White."
At quarter to three, they arrived at the flat. Alex casually ushered his visitor inside.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, pointing to the sofa. "Would you like a drink?"
"Yes please, sir."
"Tea or lemonade?"
"Tea, please. It's cold today."
Alex disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of hot tea. Handing one to Pennington, he sat down next to him.
"I see you're already hard," he whispered, running his fingers along the boy's exposed thigh.
"Yes sir. What time will they be here?"
"Very soon, I would think. We said three o'clock, but Mr Brown is always early." Just at that moment, the doorbell rang. "Hmmm!" Alex quipped. "They must have heard me!"
Getting to his feet, Alex went to welcome his guests, leaving the lad sitting on the sofa. Within seconds, the lounge door opened again. Pennington licked his lips, his penis throbbing in his underpants. The boy and the young man who had just entered were both very good looking. He could hardly wait to have sex with them. After making the customary introductions, Alex guided Mr Brown into the kitchen.
"Well," Martin said. "You have done well. How did you acquire this one? He's gorgeous!"
"Actually, you could say that he acquired me," Alex said, putting on the kettle again. "I spotted him quite early on. He's in my under-12's football training squad. He'll never be selected to play in a match, he's not good enough, but he's happy to come along to training. Afterwards, they have to have a shower before they go home. Of course, I take the opportunity to view the sights. He noticed me watching them. None of the other lads seemed to have a clue, but he did. The problem was that I don't teach him, so it was difficult to get him on his own. But one Saturday morning, he solved the problem for me." He quickly outlined what had happened. "Now I wasn't going to turn him down, was I?"
"No, certainly not," Martin agreed. "And I assume that by that time, you were already committed to Bradshaw?"
"Absolutely, and I wasn't going to let that go. So here we are."
"Indeed. Gordon wouldn't approve, of course."
"No, and I shall have to make sure he doesn't find out. Actually, this is the first time Pennington's been here."
"Are he and Bradshaw aware of each other?"
"No, not as far as sex is concerned. They know each other, of course, because Bradshaw's in the football team; he's probably our best player."
"Oh, I see. That really is rather awkward, isn't it?"
"Yes, they'll have to know sooner or later, but there's no immediate rush. I'm more concerned about how Whitney will react. He seems to resent me being interested in younger boys."
"Yes," Martin said dreamily. "It's odd. Whitney's always as good as gold when he's with me. And Jessop and Long both like him."
The first part of the comment struck Alex as odd. His friend seemed to have taken an unexpected shine to the tall thirteen-year old. But he wasn't going to say anything. Handing Martin one mug of tea and picking up the other, he led the way back to the lounge.
The boys were talking rather awkwardly, the instant rapport that had developed between Arrowsmith and Bradshaw notable by its absence. Handing Arrowsmith his tea, Alex saw it immediately. Both boys were both aroused and they were eyeing each other up. The only thing on their minds was sex.
"Are we going to the bedroom then?" Arrowsmith asked, quickly finishing his drink.
"Sure," Alex said, smiling.
Getting to his feet, the curly-haired boy led the way, Alex and Martin bringing up the rear.
"You stand there," Arrowsmith instructed, parking the younger boy in front of the armchair. "And take your shoes and socks off."
Pennington did as he was told. Moments later, Mr Brown was sitting in front of him, the man's slender fingers gently stroking his thigh.
"This is a very pleasant surprise," Mr Brown whispered. "I wasn't expecting anyone as beautiful as you."
"Thank you, sir. I think you're very good looking too. And Arrowsmith."
"Mmmm!" the young choirmaster cooed. "I think we're going to enjoy our time together. Now take off your blazer and your tie."
As Pennington complied, Martin stood up. After undoing the buttons, he eased the lad's shirt off his shoulders and out of the waistband of his shorts. Quickly slipping it off, Pennington placed it with his other clothes. Mr Brown was sitting down again, carefully undoing the clip at the top of the youngster's shorts and pulling down the zip. With one well-practised shimmy, the lad caused them to fall around his ankles.
Stepping out of them, he resumed his position. Mr Brown's hands ran up the back of his legs and over his buttocks. The touch of the man's fingers was perfect, his penis throbbing for release. Within a second, the young choirmaster's thumbs were inside the waistband of his briefs, carefully skinning them down his legs. Kicking them off, he stood up again.
"Beautiful cock!" Mr Brown panted. "Can you cum?"
Almost before he could breathe, his boy prong was deep inside Mr Brown's mouth. It was being expertly sucked, the man's tongue working wonders on the small, shiny tip.
"Oh sir!" he gasped. "Oh, that's super!"
He was in ecstasy, his fingers running through Mr Brown's blond curly hair. He'd always enjoyed having his cock sucked, but there was something about the way Mr Brown was doing it that made it the best he'd ever experienced. After a couple of minutes, the man let him go.
"Okay," Mr Brown said quietly. "Kneel down."
Pennington needed no further instruction. Kneeling on the floor, he stretched out his hand to undo the young choirmaster's fly-buttons. Reaching inside, he took out the man's prick. He smiled. It wasn't much bigger than his cousin's. This was going to be easy! Leaning forwards, he took it into his mouth, sucking it eagerly. Gradually, he worked his way down until the golden pubic hair was tickling his nose.
"Oh yes!" Mr Brown enthused. "Oh, you do that beautifully! Oh, you'd better stop!"
Pennington slowly rose back up, running his tongue over the head of the man's prick before finally letting it go.
"I take it you had some experience before you met Mr White," Martin suggested.
"Yes sir. During the summer holidays I went to stay with my cousin, David. He was thirteen, nearly fourteen actually. He taught me about sucking and that. Then one day he took me to his scoutmaster's house. We all got naked and sucked each other. Before we left, the scoutmaster fucked him."
"Oh! I see! So was that how you knew that Mr White was watching you while you were in the showers."
"Yes sir. I saw him looking at us like the scoutmaster looked at me and David. Anyway, the night before I came home, David asked if he could fuck me. I wanted to try it so I said yes."
"Do you like that, then?"
"It looks like we're ready," Alex called from across the room.
"Yes," Martin agreed. "Go on," he said, smiling at Pennington. "Go and enjoy yourself!"
Turning around, Pennington saw the naked Arrowsmith getting onto the bed. Having joined the older lad, they snuggled up, their cocks grinding together. Pennington placed his hand on Arrowsmith's stomach, sliding his fingers down the older boy's shaft. Though bigger than his own, it was smaller than his cousin's. More importantly, it was wonderfully hard.
"Do you like kissing?" Arrowsmith asked.
"Yeah, if you want."
Arrowsmith clearly did want, engaging his new friend in a full-scale lip-lock. Alex allowed himself a satisfied smirk. With Arrowsmith having dismissed kissing as `girly' less than a week earlier, the transformation was truly remarkable. The boys' lips parted.
"Do you do sixty-nine's?" Arrowsmith demanded.
"Yes. My cousin showed me during the summer holidays."
"Come on then."
The boys moved effortlessly into a sixty-nine. Alex watched intently. He was fascinated. Although the action was much the same, the relationship that Arrowsmith had with Pennington was quite different from the one he'd had with Bradshaw. On this occasion, there was no asking, no negotiation; Arrowsmith was totally in charge.
Taking the tube of K-Y from beside the bed, Arrowsmith coated his first two fingers. He inserted his index finger into the younger boy's anus, working it in and out. His middle finger soon joined it.
"Are you ready for my cock?" the older boy asked.
"Okay," Arrowsmith instructed, disengaging from the sixty-nine. "Lie on your back."
With Pennington in position, Arrowsmith lifted the younger boy's legs, pushing them right back so that the lad's knees were close to his shoulders.
"Hold them there," Arrowsmith ordered.
As Pennington wrapped his hands around his knees, the older boy casually smeared K-Y over his stiff prong. Having shuffled into position, he guided his prick onto his younger friend's hole. With one hard thrust he was in.
"Oh yeah!" he panted. "This is what you need!"
Resuming his grip on Pennington's thighs, he pushed in deeper, his cock disappearing into the youngster's bottom. After a few seconds to steady himself, he bent at the waist, pushing his upper body down between Pennington's legs, the boys' mouths meeting in a passionate kiss. Alex was surprised and delighted. He glanced across at Martin.
"Holdsworth's been fucking Jessop like that for most of this term," Martin explained quietly. "Jessop loves it, so when they come to my flat, he gets Arrowsmith to fuck him like that. Until last week, he used to do it kneeling up, but then you-know-who got him into kissing."
"I see," Alex said, his excitement building. "Well I'm going to have my fun now!"
He got up. Quickly coating his penis with K-Y, he knelt on the bed, directly behind Arrowsmith, aiming his ramrod at the lad's boy-hole. As Arrowsmith pulled back, Alex gripped him around the thighs and forced it in.
"Oh, shit!" Arrowsmith swore.
"Now fuck him!" Alex ordered. "Fuck him hard!"
Arrowsmith could do no other, the heady mixture of pain and pleasure too strong to resist. Within seconds, he was fucking ferociously, spearing himself on Mr White's cock every time he pulled back. Seconds ticked into minutes. Inexorably, his orgasm began to build. The muscle spasms began right down by his toes, quickly sweeping right through his body. As his anus spasmed around his host's hefty prong, his penis began to pulse, little jets of boy-cum squirting powerfully into Pennington's arse.
"Oh yes!" Alex growled, a note of triumph in his voice. "Now take what I've got for you!"
Tightening his grip on Arrowsmith's thighs, he thrust once, twice, three times, burying his cock deep in the lad's bottom. On the final stroke, it jerked into action, his creamy spunk blasting over and over into the youngster's rectum. For several seconds he remained where he was, drawing in lungfuls of air. Having finally regained his composure, he carefully withdrew. Arrowsmith was leaking profusely, semen trickling down his legs.
"You'd better get yourself to the bathroom," Alex said, patting the lad's rump.
Having disentangled himself, Arrowsmith got off the bed and headed out of the room.
"Wow, sir!" Pennington said, grinning. "I never expected you to do that!"
"Neither did I," Alex admitted. "But then, I didn't expect Arrowsmith to fuck you the way he did. It was too good an opportunity to miss. So how was it?"
"Good sir! Very exciting!"
"Did you cum?"
"No sir, I nearly did, but Arrowsmith's cock's not quite long enough. It was only just touching . . . you know, that hard thing up my bum. It didn't go right over it like yours does."
"Oh, I see."
"Is Mr Brown still going to fuck me?"
"Yes, of course. We'll just wait for Arrowsmith to get back."
"I bet your cock will go right over my thing," Pennington said, turning to the young choirmaster. "Wont' it, sir?"
"Oh, I think so," Martin replied, smiling. He leant across to whisper in Alex ear. "Will it be okay to have him on his tummy?"
"Should be," Alex said quietly. "He takes mine comfortably enough. It shouldn't be a problem."
For a few minutes they chatted about this and that. Finally, the bedroom door opened and Arrowsmith reappeared.
"Hail, the conquering hero comes!" Alex said, smiling broadly. "Well done! You did superbly! And don't worry, you haven't missed anything."
Martin drew Pennington onto the bed. They snuggled up, the man's hands roaming all over the youngster's body. Once again, Pennington was ecstatic. For all that he'd enjoyed having sex with the other people he'd been with, the young choirmaster surpassed them all. Even though they didn't kiss, the foreplay was exquisite.
"So, are you ready for me to fuck you?" Martin asked quietly.
"Yes, sir!" Pennington said eagerly.
"Okay," Martin responded, taking the lad's hand and squeezing some K-Y onto his fingers. "You know what to do."
With his cock duly smothered in lube, Martin pulled a pillow into the middle of the bed.
"Put this on top," Alex said, handing him an old towel.
Having put it in place, Martin turned back to Pennington.
"Okay, get on your tummy."
Pennington quickly got into position, his boy-hole itching to be filled by the young choirmaster's penis. Having gently pulled the boy's legs apart, Martin knelt between them, looking down to admire his prize. He licked his lips. Pennington really was stunningly beautiful.
Reaching forwards, he separated the lad's buttocks. The youngster's rosebud winked provocatively, a little reddening to either side the only signs of it having been recently violated. Of course, Arrowsmith's prick wasn't very big, Martin reflected, though ideal for fucking tight little boy-holes.
He lowered himself into position. His cock homing in on Pennington's anus. Feeling the pressure, the boy pushed out, just as he'd been taught, allowing Mr Brown's cock to slide right into him.
"Oooh, sir!" Pennington cooed. "Oh, that feels wonderful!"
With the lad completely impaled, Martin settled himself as he always did, resting on his forearms so that the boy wouldn't have to take his full weight. Taking a deep breath, he began to fuck. With the man's warm musky breath flooding his nostrils, Pennington thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He'd enjoyed being fucked every time it had happened, but this was far better than any of his previous experiences. Nothing else could compare with it.
Pennington had wanted the man to fuck him from the moment he'd entered the flat. The reality hadn't just fulfilled his expectations; it had exceeded them. He could never have imagined it was going to feel as good as it did. It was perfection! All too quickly, the tingling in his penis built to unimaginable levels. Suddenly, he began to thrash around, his legs flailing, his fingers clawing at the bed. His prick jerked into action pumping little jets of watery cum onto the towel.
"Good boy!" Martin cooed appreciatively. "Now I'm going to fill your boy-hole!"
After two more thrusts he was there, depositing several volleys of semen in the twelve-year old's bottom. For some time he lay where he was, basking in the afterglow. Over the past few years, he'd fucked more than a dozen boys. But the combination of Pennington's beauty, and the way the lad had reacted to being fucked, put him right at the top of the pile. Pennington was Mr White's guilty secret. Martin wanted the youngster to be his guilty secret too.
As Mr Brown lifted himself clear, Pennington got off the bed and headed to the bathroom, Arrowsmith following behind.
"I think you enjoyed that," Alex said, grinning.
"Oh yes!" Martin enthused. "Pennington's not just gorgeous. He absolutely loved it!"
"Yes," Alex said, feeling slightly envious. "I noticed. Oh, he likes me fucking him, but he doesn't react as positively as he did with you."
"I guess me being smaller, it was less uncomfortable for him."
"Are you going to have him lying face-down?"
"I probably will eventually. But that's not just about cock-size. I'm a lot heavier than you. Whitney can take my cock quite easily, and he loves me to fuck him like that. He always cums. But he does complain that I'm too heavy."
"Oh, I know he likes me fucking him that way," Martin said. "I hadn't thought about the weight issue. Of course, he's nowhere like as beautiful as Pennington."
"You do like Whitney, though?"
"Oh yes. In his way, I think he's maturing very nicely."
Alex didn't know what that meant, but decided not to ask.
"I've been thinking about Long," he said, changing the subject. "I reckon you need to get him used to taking you in that position. Once he can do that without wincing, bring him back here. He should be ready for me by then."
"Yes, that does make sense," Martin agreed. "I'll do that." He paused. "I assume you haven't met Van Kerkstraat as yet?"
"No, I've yet to have that pleasure."
"Oh, he's very nice. We met him the Sunday before last. His boy-parts are quite small, but you only have to stroke his leg and he's hard."
"When you say small, you mean smaller than Long's?"
"Yes, balls are about the same size, but his penis is smaller, which is a little incongruous, as in all other respects he's quite a bit bigger than Long, more like Bradshaw's size."
"Oh, I see."
"Anyway, he was more than happy to kneel astride my chest. Apparently Holdsworth had shown him what to do. I have to say he performed most enthusiastically for me. But he did get rather a shock when I came. It must have been the first time he'd had his boy-hole properly filled."
"Well, I'll look forward to that, towards the end of January if things go to plan."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Pennington sat on the toilet, allowing Mr Brown's spunk to run into the bowl.
"So you're at boarding school?" he asked, looking up at Arrowsmith.
"Yeah," the older lad confirmed.
"I thought you'd have gone home by now. The boys who live two doors away from me are at boarding school. They came home last Friday."
"Yeah, most of our boys finished last Friday, but the choristers have to stay until Christmas morning to sing in the services at the cathedral."
"You're in the choir then?"
"Actually, I'm not. I've got a terrible voice. I'm sort of helping out. All the choristers play instruments. I help out some of the wind players and string players, accompanying them on piano while they're practising. It's good fun. I really enjoy it. And my two younger friends are both choristers, so I've had plenty to keep me entertained, which is a damn sight more than I'd have at home. I'm going home from here. Mr White's taking me."
Pennington eyed up the older boy, the picture forming in his brain. Were Arrowsmith's `younger friends' boys he had sex with? That was certainly what it sounded like. He could have asked, but he didn't want to make himself look stupid.
"My mum plays piano," he said absently, unable to think of anything else.
"Actually, my main instrument's the clarinet," Arrowsmith responded. "Sometimes Mr Brown accompanies me, but mainly I'm happy practising on my own. Then I can play what I like."
"Sorry," Pennington said, feeling totally befuddled. "I don't understand."
"I like to play jazz," Arrowsmith told him. "Mr Brown doesn't approve. He hates it. So I just play on my own. I'm having a saxophone as a combined Christmas and birthday present. He's really not going to like that!"
"What difference will it make if you're playing jazz anyway?"
"The clarinet's made of wood and so the sound's quite small. Saxophones are made of brass, so the sound's much bigger, you know, louder. And they're used in modern jazz, which is the sort Mr Brown hates the most. I love it! Have you heard Take Five? You must have, for the past few months, it's been on the radio all the time."
"Yeah, I think so."
"Well, that gives you an idea, only most of the stuff I want to play has a much harder edge to it."
Pennington didn't answer, finding the older lad's nonchalant self-confidence quite unnerving.
"D'you want to suck me off?" Arrowsmith asked.
"It's okay," the older boy assured him. "I washed it when I was in here earlier."
Arrowsmith sauntered across to stand in front of the toilet, his penis fully erect. Leaning forwards, Pennington closed his lips over the older lad's joystick, steadily working his way down until he was sucking its entire length. It was the smallest one he'd sucked, and by far the easiest. He could have sucked it all day and not got tired.
"Oh yeah," Arrowsmith groaned appreciatively, his fingers running through Pennington's hair. "Your cousin must have taught you well. You give wonderful blow-jobs."
Encouraged, Pennington began to suck even harder.
"Oh fuck!" Arrowsmith gasped. "I'm going to cum!"
Holding the younger boy's head, his cock jerked wildly, little spurts of boy-cum shooting into Pennington's mouth. Having swallowed every drop, Pennington eased himself away. For a moment, Arrowsmith wondered if he should offer to return the favour, but it had been barely five minutes since the lad had cum on the pillow. It was too soon.
"Come on," he said, extending a hand to help Pennington to his feet. "Wipe your bum. We need to get back."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
With Arrowsmith's possessions stowed in the boot of the car, they headed to the town centre, Arrowsmith in the front passenger seat, Pennington sitting directly behind him. There was no conversation, an uneasy tension pervading the atmosphere. They all had things to say, questions that they wanted to ask each of the others, but the presence of the third person precluded it.
Ten minutes later, they dropped Pennington at a convenient bus stop. Finally able to relax, Alex drove to the main road and turned towards Horsham. He glanced across. Arrowsmith was sitting low in his seat, his shorts, somewhat longer than the ones worn by the other boys he went with, were showing a tantalising length of thigh.
"Well," Alex said, "Did you enjoy today?"
"Oh yeah!" Arrowsmith responded. "It was super, right out of the top drawer."
"Excellent! And what did you make of Pennington?"
"Oh, he's really cute, sir, and he's a wonderful fuck."
"Well, he's alright, but he's soft, isn't he? Nothing like Bradshaw."
"That's a pretty fair assessment," Alex said, smiling.
"Bradshaw's got a real spark about him. I bet the other kids don't mess with him."
"Absolutely right. He's very popular, both with the boys in his form and the boys in the football team. I thought that teaching him one-to-one might get him labelled as a teacher's pet, but it hasn't. The other lads respect him too much. Of course, he never talks about how clever he is or how good he is at football. He lets his actions speak for him. Boys like that."
"Yeah! He amazed me, the way he could stand up for himself. Most of the kids at our place are all `Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.' He's not like that at all. Oh, the sex was super, but I loved just talking to him. If we were together all the time, we'd be real mates. I'd watch his back and he'd watch mine. Sure, I'll enjoy having sex with Pennington if it happens, but that'll be it. We're never going to be friends."
"I don't imagine he does very well in school."
"Why d'you say that?"
"Like I said, he's soft. He wouldn't push himself hard enough."
"Impressive!" Alex said, nodding thoughtfully. "You've got that right too. I don't teach him, but that's exactly what his report says."
For a few moments there was silence.
"Sir?" Arrowsmith asked. "When you were at university, what live jazz did you see?"
"It was all British guys," Alex told him. "People like Tubby Hayes, John Dankworth, Ronnie Scott, plus there were a couple of student groups that were pretty good. Back then, there was a ban on American musicians playing here. It was only recently relaxed. Shortly before I finished, a few of us went to London to see Miles Davis."
"Wow, that must have been amazing! I'd love to see guys like that."
"Well, keep listening. You'll get your chance when you're a bit older."
"My parents are buying me a saxophone for Christmas."
"Yes, Mr Brown told me you wanted one. I imagine you're looking forward to it."
"Oh yes! During the holiday, I'll be playing it every chance I get. I'll have to learn the fingering. It's different from the clarinet."
"Well, work hard at it. You only get out what you put in."
"Yes sir." Arrowsmith paused, seeming unusually nervous about what he was going to say next. "Sir," he began. "I got a real shock when you stuck it up me."
"Sorry. I had no idea you liked to fuck boys in that position."
"Oh, Jessop got me into it, sir, you know, when we go to Mr Brown's flat together. I've done Long like that too. I love seeing their faces while I'm fucking them. It really turns me on. Well, after last Sunday, I started wondering what it'd be like to fuck them and kiss them at the same time. Well, Tuesday evening, Jessop and I were at Mr Brown's place, so I tried it. Wow! It was so intense!"
"Yes, I can understand that. How was it with Pennington?"
"Well, I'd only just got going when you stuck it up me, so it's hard to compare. But once I'd got used to you being there, it was wild. His boy-hole was clamped round my cock, yours was rubbing my sex-thingy. I was so turned on, I fucked the kid's brains out."
"Wonderful! You were so relaxed when you pulled back that I got into you with no effort at all. It just popped in. I'm sorry if it was a bit of a shock."
"Oh, that's cool. I like you fucking me, sir. Even if it hurts when it goes in, it always gets me turned on. And today was the best ever!"
"Thanks! If you and Bradshaw are going to get together as often as I hope you are, you'll be getting plenty of it."
"Have you fucked Van Kerkstraat yet, sir?"
"No. Mr Brown was speaking about him, telling me how nice he is."
"Yeah, beautiful arse and he loves having it up him. Funny though, his prick's really small."
"Yes, so I understand."
Alex looked up. Horsham was only two miles away. The journey had simply flown past. At five past five, he stopped the car outside an imposing Georgian house. Arrowsmith's parents were clearly not short of money.
"Thanks for today sir," the boy said, retrieving his things from the boot of the car. "Have a good Christmas. I'll see you next term."