All the usual disclaimers apply. If the law that applies where you live does not permit you to read this story, neither I nor Nifty can be held responsible for any unfortunate consequences that result from your decision to do so. This story contains graphic descriptions of sex involving an adult male and three underage boys. If that is not whet you want to read, I’d suggest that you’re on the wrong page.

So here we are again, guys, back at Hartswood Priory, and in one sense right back where we started, with music master Mr. Burman. The style is very different from the way I usually write; it’s just something that I wanted to try. I hope you like it, and of course I hope you like the story too.

There will be a total of eleven of these ‘Snapshots’, consisting of five short stories and one six-part mini-series. As I am about to go away for a few days, I’ll be sending in the next one, the first part of the mini series, in a little over a week’s time.

As ever, feedback would be greatly appreciated. Please send your comments to and I’ll reply as soon as I can.



Thirteen year old Leo sighed contentedly as Mr. Burman sucked his penis. They had attended a concert together, the first Saturday of the new Promenade season, and now he was where he had been so often before, in his music master’s London flat, lying on the bed, having his penis expertly and lovingly sucked. It had been almost three years since Leo had first given his favours to Anthony, a boy two years his senior. Anthony had looked after him, protected him, encouraged him, comforted him when he was sad; all the things that an older friend should do. It had been Anthony who had introduced him to the ways of male-on-male sex, and Anthony who some three weeks into their relationship had taken his virginity. The de-flowering had been somewhat painful, but once the initial shock had been overcome, Leo’s need to have an older male’s penis inside him had been irrevocably established.

But since Anthony’s departure from Hartswood Priory the following summer, Leo had reserved his favours exclusively for Mr. Burman. He could hardly remember how that relationship had begun, as though it had crept up on him almost unnoticed. There had been several older boys who had wanted to be his friend. Leo was a good looking boy, some would say pretty, tall and slim, with collar-length, straw-coloured hair, blue eyes and near perfect features. But none of them had a penis to match Mr. Burman’s, none of them could go for well over ten minutes before ejaculating inside him, none of them could produce the quantity of semen that Mr. Burman did. More importantly, none of them would have showered him with the attention and affection that Mr. Burman gave him.

Leo, the son of a senior civil servant in the Ministry of Overseas Development, was woefully neglected. His parents made frequent trips abroad, and even when they were at home their lives consisted of an endless round of receptions and parties. So they had paid willingly for a nanny when he was small, even more willingly to send him to boarding school at the age of eight. They happily paid out for his music lessons, and had spent hundreds of pounds to buy him a trumpet that many professional players would have envied. But their time was at such a premium, and in their eyes, Leo was not a priority. So it had fallen to Mr. Burman to fill the void, a task he had taken on with relish.

Leo was a musician of some talent, and trumpet was his favoured instrument, although he also played piano and sang in the school choir. Mr. Burman did not teach him the trumpet, a visiting specialist was employed for that, but he was Leo’s musical mentor is all other matters, and so the relationship had begun. Leo was still a couple of months short of his eleventh birthday when it first took on a physical dimension. With Anthony gone, Leo was lonely and fretful, wracked by self-doubt; who better than has favourite teacher to fill the gap? So forget all notions of sexual abuse, Leo and Mr. Burman had come together quite naturally; Leo needed what Mr. Burman gave him.

Leo writhed in ecstasy as Mr. Burman’s finger was inserted into his anus. He stroked the man’s hair, noting the few flecks of grey that had begun to appear. But Mr. Burman wasn’t the ‘old fart’ that many of Leo’s classmates thought he was; they hadn’t seen him naked as Leo had. Mr. Burman was lean, trim, and strong, in excellent shape for a man in his late thirties. With his free hand Leo reached out and fondled the man’s penis, the penis that would soon be inside him, bringing him to even greater heights of pleasure. The finger massaging his prostate had brought him close to orgasm, his breathing now ragged and uneven.

“Oh, sir!” he gasped.

Mr. Burman sucked and swallowed, savouring the boy-nectar that spurted into his mouth. Only when he was sure that he had licked up every drop did he release the boy’s sensitive penis. They snuggled up together, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

“Are you ready?” Mr. Burman whispered at last.

“Yes!” Leo confirmed.

The boy rolled onto his left side, his back to the man, cocking up his right leg to give easier access. At different times and in different places they did it in a number of ways, but here and now, with bedtime approaching, they did it like this. Mr. Burman moved in close, guiding his penis onto its target. With one well-practised thrust he penetrated the boy, gradually pulling him back until his pubic hair was crushed tight against Leo’s bottom. He began fucking the boy with long, rhythmic strokes, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in again. Leo moaned in pleasure, his penis rapidly hardening again, savouring the incomparable delights of this ultimate act of union between himself and his mentor.

For more than ten minutes Mr. Burman continued to fuck with almost metronomic precision, driving his penis remorselessly into Leo’s rectum, spurred on by the husky treble of the boy’s moans and gurgles. Almost without warning, Leo’s breathing became harsh and ragged, signalling the onset of a second orgasm. Mr. Burman reached down, fondling the boy’s throbbing penis. In a matter of seconds, little jets of watery semen squirted through his fingers, Leo’s sphincter tightening sharply around his invading member.

“Good boy, Leo!” he growled.

He redoubled his efforts, his thrusts now shorter and faster. After less than a minute his balls pulled up tight in his scrotum, thick, creamy semen barrelling through his penis and flooding repeatedly into Leo’s bowels. He held the boy close, his breath blowing hot onto Leo’s neck. How lucky he was to have such a beautiful, sexy boy, he reflected, and how he would miss him when Leo’s career at the school finally ended. Very slowly, his breathing returned to normal. He licked Leo’s right ear. There was no response, the boy already fast asleep still fully impaled on the man’s penis.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

When Leo awoke, the bright summer sun was streaming through a gap in the curtains. He yawned and stretched. Mr. Burman was spooned up behind him, his right arm draped over Leo’s slim chest. Leo flipped over onto his right side to face him, his morning erection striking his mentor’s thigh.

“Good morning,” the man said quietly. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well when I’m with you,” Leo said, smiling at him, his blue eyes shining. “What time is it?”

“Just before seven,” Mr. Burman confirmed.

“I need a pee!” Leo said brightly.

He jumped out of bed, Mr. Burman gently swatting his naked bottom as he headed for the bathroom. Two minutes later he returned, his penis no longer erect. He got back into bed, the two of them wrapping their arms round each other.

“Sir, I’m really going to miss you after next week,” Leo said wistfully.

“And I’ll miss you too, Leo,” his teacher responded, firmly but quietly, stroking the boy’s tousled hair. “But we have to move on, both of us. You got your music scholarship; you’ve taken your first steps towards becoming a professional musician. So now you must go and develop that talent further, and I know you will. And don’t worry; at Sherborne you’ll find at least one senior boy who will want to look after you, probably more than one.”

“Thanks, sir,” Leo said, running his tongue over the man’s lips.

“So what d’you want now?” Mr. Burman asked, his fingers wrapped around Leo’s rapidly hardening penis.

“You know what I want, sir!” Leo said provocatively, his eyes sparkling in the morning sunlight.

The man placed one of the pillows in the middle of the large double bed, spreading an old towel on top of it. Leo rolled onto his tummy, the pillow beneath his hips, his legs spread apart. Mr. Burman knelt between them, coating his fingers with lubricant. He reached forward, inserting his middle finger into the boy’s anus. He met with no resistance; for Leo such intrusions were a frequent and welcome occurrence. He pushed in a second finger, just to be sure that Leo was ready for what was to follow. After an almost imperceptible contraction the boy relaxed again, eagerly anticipating the pleasure his mentor was about to give him.

Mr. Burman withdrew his fingers, quickly smearing lubricant over his fully erect penis, lost in admiration of the beauty that lay before him. Leo’s time at Hartswood Priory would end within a few days; this would be the last time that the boy would be here, naked on his bed, a special occasion indeed. He lowered himself onto his young student, guiding his penis towards its target. Leo reached back, holding his buttocks apart, his sphincter opening invitingly. Mr. Burman placed his penis against it, momentarily steadying himself. He pushed down, and in one smooth movement the boy was once more fully impaled on his man-sized erection.

Leo sighed with contentment. These were the moments he treasured, the moments when he felt totally loved, totally wanted, his mentor’s thick, seven inch penis deep inside him. He lay relaxed and perfectly still as Mr. Burman began to fuck him, the man’s warm breath swirling round has face, the musky aroma like some mystical sex-drug. On it went, each downward thrust of the man’s penis stimulating Leo’s prostate and taking the boy to even greater heights of pleasure, the friction created by his stiff young penis rubbing against the towel quite simply the icing on the cake.

Mr. Burman settled himself lower, gripping Leo firmly by the shoulders. The boy whimpered delightfully as his teacher’s penis ploughed into him with ever greater ferocity. He could stand no more; his legs flailing uncontrollably, his fingers clawing at the mattress, the involuntary contraction of his sphincter gripping Mr. Burman’s penis like a vice. A moment later the boy’s watery semen spurted onto the towel. His mentor’s orgasm followed in an instant, the man ejaculating powerfully deep inside his thirteen year old student.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The first few weeks of the new term had proved frustrating. Mr. Burman had hoped that the delightful Patrick Naylor would have been keen to take Leo’s place. Patrick had only been at the school for a year, and shortly after his arrival had been seduced by Brian Harper, a beautiful but rather arrogant boy. Brian had been one of Leo’s classmates, and like Leo, had moved on to his public school, leaving Patrick behind. But his initial advances, offering to take Patrick to concerts in London, with a night at his London flat to follow, had been politely but firmly rejected. It wasn’t entirely a surprise. Patrick’s father had attended the summer concert and it was very clear that since his mother’s unfortunate death Patrick and his father had become very close. He knew from experience that that was never a good sign.

His encounter with Toby Redman in the trunk store had been an alarming experience. He had completely under-estimated what this highly intelligent boy might be capable of. He knew very few adults who would have been capable of executing something like that. He resolved to be more careful in the future; the warning signs had been there but he had chosen to ignore them, a mistake he would not make again. Even so, it had resolved the problem in a way; Peter Cranham was now ‘his boy’, and although not as cute as Patrick, was a quite acceptable replacement for the beautiful Leo.

However, he remained unsure how well this arrangement was going to work. Despite what Toby had said, the fact remained that Peter was not a musician, and he would not be able to spend most of his free time around the music rooms as Leo had done. In addition, Peter was the younger friend of Robert Shearsby, the school rugby captain, a reliable and industrious, if rather dull young man. Sharing a boy in this way was outside his previous experience and not something he felt at all comfortable with. He suspected that Robert might feel the same way. Peter himself was not a model student. The son of a senior British diplomat and clearly intelligent, he showed little interest, doing no more than necessary to keep himself out of trouble. That, Mr. Burman resolved, was a matter he would need to address.

He checked his watch; it was three minutes past seven. Supper would have concluded and Peter should arrive at any moment. Barely thirty seconds later there was a light tap on the door and the boy entered.

“Hello, sir!” Peter said brightly.

“Come here,” Mr. Burman responded, giving Peter a welcoming smile.

He motioned for Peter to sit on his lap. As the boy sat down he began to gently massage his creamy smooth thighs, almost fully exposed below his shorts.

“I’m so pleased you came,” the man said softly. “So d’you like being with me?”

“Oh, yes sir!” Peter responded enthusiastically. “I like it better than anything!”

“Well, that’s very good to know,” Mr. Burman whispered. “And it seems that’s what your penis thinks too,” he continued, tweaking the boy’s very obvious erection.”

“So do you like me, sir?” Peter asked.

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Burman confirmed. “I like you a great deal. I count myself very fortunate to have met you, even if the circumstances were a little strange.”

“I’m sorry about that sir,” Peter said, looking into the man’s eyes. “I’d have gone with you anyway. I just didn’t know how to attract your attention; you always seemed to ignore me. I’ll give you back the hundred pounds that Toby gave me.”

“Keep it,” the man whispered, gently rubbing noses with him. “You’re worth every penny.”

“Thanks sir!” Peter said, his eyes sparkling.

“Peter, I need to ask you something,” Mr. Burman said in a gentle but more serious tone.

“You are an intelligent young man, but you’ve wasted your time here; you know that, don’t you? It seems that you do the minimum amount of work you can get away with. Can you tell me why that is?”

Peter sat silently on the man’s knee, looking very sad.

“Well, Peter?” Mr. Burman said softly.

“My parents never wanted me.” Peter said. “Mummy was forty one when she had me; they hadn’t been taking precautions because they already had two children and she didn’t think she’d have any more. But then I came along. Daddy was quite close to being made an ambassador; they were so busy they didn’t have time for me. I’ve never bothered about school because they don’t care what I do as long as I stay out of trouble.”

“Well I care, Peter,” Mr. Burman continued soothingly, rocking the boy gently on his knee. “I care because it’s important for you. In a few years time you’ll have to make your own way in the world. If your parents have no time for you now, you can be sure they won’t have any then. So if you want to be able to enjoy some of the good things in life, you need to start preparing yourself. D’you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said, hardly able to believe that the man had spoken to him so gently. “I will try, I promise.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Burman responded, gently stroking Peter’s hair. “And if you need any help, just ask.”

“Thanks, sir!” Peter said. “I wish my parents were like you!”

“You know, Peter,” Mr. Burman said, smiling up at the boy. “During the fifteen years I’ve taught here, I’ve heard a story like yours from one boy after another, all of them sitting where you are now. I like to think I’ve been able to help.”

“Sir,” Peter said, giving his new friend a big smile.

“So what can I do for you now, Peter?” Mr. Burman asked, rubbing his hand over the boy’s erect penis, still enclosed in the grey school shorts with the white underpants beneath.

“I want you to bum me, sir,” Peter said, still smiling warmly.

“And so I shall, dear boy,” Mr. Burman responded, lifting Peter from his lap, “but I think there is something else that needs attending to first.”

He quickly undid the boy’s shorts, easing them over his hips and allowing them to fall to the floor. He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of Peter’s briefs, pulling them right down to his ankles, taking care not to snag the lad’s throbbing penis. He admired his prize; Peter really was a quite delightful specimen; his uncut penis with testicles just in process of dropping into place suited him perfectly.

He leaned forward, taking Peter’s boyhood into his mouth, savouring the boy’s musky aroma. He worked his tongue all over the boy’s erection, running his hands over the lad’s firm muscular bottom and down his slim but shapely thighs. Peter moaned with pleasure as the man inserted a finger into his anus, eagerly holding the man’s head and fucking his penis into the warm, wet mouth. His climax could not be delayed for long, nor did he want it to be.

“Sir! Sir!” he gasped. “I’m going to cum!!”

And cum he did, Mr. Burman sucking and swallowing as Peter’s watery semen spurted into his mouth. He finally let the boy go, satisfied that he had taken all he had to give. He looked up.

“You taste delicious,” he said, smiling and licking his lips.

“Oh, sir!” Peter said, still trying to get his breath back. “That was great! Robert won’t let me do that!”

“How very selfish of him!” the man responded mockingly. “Well, you can do that for me any time you like!”

“Thanks sir!” Peter said, a broad grin on his face.

“So do you still want me to bum you?” Mr. Burman enquired.

“Oh yes!” Peter said eagerly. “I love having it up my bum!”

“Let’s try the desk, shall we?” Mr Burman suggested. “You’ll find it more relaxed than the music stand.”

Peter shuffled into position, bent over the teacher’s desk. Mr. Burman moved round behind, quickly extracting his penis and coating it in lubricant. He stood back for a second, lost in admiration for the beauty of the boy in front of him; reflecting that Peter’s thighs and bottom were possibly the most exquisite he’d ever seen. He moved in close, pressing the head of his large penis against Peter’s sphincter. Holding it round the base, he thrust his hips forwards and penetrated him.

“Oooh, sir!” Peter breathed.

“Is that okay for you?” Mr. Burman asked gently.

“Oh, yes sir!” the boy responded eagerly. “I want to feel you bumming me!”

Mr. Burman set to his task. He could easily last well over ten minutes if he wanted to, but there would be other occasions for that; Peter had been there long enough already. He rapidly picked up the pace, fucking the boy as hard as he could, Peter moaning and gasping, scarcely able to believe the heights of pleasure to which the man was taking him. Mr. Burman’s fingers closed around the boy’s already stiff penis, fondling it gently. Peter bucked violently, his sphincter tightening sharply around the man’s invading member. The boy’s penis jerked into action, a few little drops of boy-cum squirting through Mr. Burman’s fingers.

“Good boy, Peter!” Mr. Burman cooed. “Oh yes! Yes!! Aaarrggghhhh!!!”

The man’s penis swelled and pulsed, pumping wad after wad of thick, creamy semen deep into Peter’s bottom. After several seconds he slowly withdrew.

“Well, Peter,” he asked, “was that what you wanted?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Peter gasped. “You bum me much better than Robert does!”

Mr. Burman beamed with satisfaction; age and experience did count for something after all. Peter began to dress, preparing himself for the all too necessary visit to the nearby boys’ room.

“Sir,” he asked. “Do you really have a flat in Belgravia? Toby says you do.”

“Yes, Peter,” Mr. Burman confirmed. “Why d’you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking ,sir,” Peter said. “We live by Clapham Common; it’s not far from there. During half term, sir, I could visit you. I could come on the bus.”

“Well, Peter,” Mr. Burman replied, delighted to have been offered this unexpected bonus, “that would be very pleasant. I would like that; I think you would too. See me next week and we’ll make arrangements.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mr. Burman waited at the corner of Sloane Square. He checked his watch; it was five to eleven. Peter was due to arrive in five minutes. He was apprehensive, wondering if the boy would turn up, and if he did, would he be on time. While there were other things he could do during his trip to town, none of them was urgent, and on a pleasantly warm October morning, his house in Sussex seemed a far more attractive location than London’s rather grimy streets. Peter’s non-appearance would be an irritation to say the least of it. He had decided against giving the boy his telephone number; it was simply too risky. So they had no means of contacting each other; if Peter failed to appear, there was nothing to be done.

He watched the red Routemaster buses as they made their interminable approach along Lower Sloane Street, stopping here and there to allow passengers to embark or alight. Another one approached close enough for him to read the number; 137, the bus that came from Clapham Common. His pulse quickened markedly as he moved around to the bus stop on the Square itself. This was it, the moment of truth; either Peter would be on this bus or he was in London on a fool’s errand.

And suddenly there he was, standing before him, dressed, he was delighted to note, in a pair of blue denim shorts even briefer than the ones he wore for school, making the boy’s thighs look more delectable than ever.

“Hello, sir!” Peter said brightly, a big smile on his face.

Mr. Burman breathed deeply. The trip to town had been worth it. It had been more than three months since Leo’s last visit, and here he was, about to introduce another beautiful boy to his London flat and the pleasures that they would enjoy there. They crossed Lower Sloane Street and headed towards Eaton Square. Peter was already erect, as he had been for at least an hour. It had been five days since their last encounter in the music room; five days that had seemed a very long time.

A few minutes and a couple of side turnings later, Mr. Burman led the boy up the stairs to the place that had he now regarded as his second home.

“This is cool!” Peter said enthusiastically, as he looked round the flat. Despite the conservative appearance that Mr. Burman maintained at school, the place was tastefully decorated in a contemporary style that the boy found far more appealing than the rather old-fashioned appearance of his home in Clapham.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mr. Burman said warmly. “Can I get you a drink? I have orange squash and Coca Cola.”

“Coca Cola, please!” Peter responded, a little surprised that Mr. Burman had not initiated sexual contact the moment that the door was closed behind them.

Peter flopped down on the sofa. A minute later the man joined him, presenting him with a glass of cola. As he drank, Mr. Burman began gently stroking his silky-smooth thighs, making his penis go harder than ever. He grinned up at the man, who smiled back at him.

“Drink up,” Mr. Burman whispered. “I want to take you to my bedroom.”

“Can’t we do it here?” Peter asked, giving the man his sexiest grin. “I want to sit on your cock.”

Mr. Burman was taken aback, almost shocked. The various boys he had seduced had all enjoyed their sexual adventures, but he had always been the one to take the lead. Leo in particular had been totally submissive. Having a boy take the initiative as Peter had just done was a new experience, a little shocking, but very exciting.

“Just a moment, then” he responded. “I’ll draw the curtains. I think the houses across the street are too far away for people there to see anything, but better safe than sorry!”

He rose to his feet and closed the curtains. Before resuming his seat, he went to the bedroom, collecting a tube of KY and a towel.

“I think we might need these,” he said quietly as he sat down again.

Peter grinned. They’d be needing them, there was no doubt about it. Shoes and socks were discarded then slowly and sensuously they began undressing each other. Sweaters were followed by shirts, leaving them both naked from the waist up. Mr Burman ran his hand over Peter’s chest. Peter sighed contentedly. The touch of the man’s fingers was exquisite. Peter had enjoyed sex with every boy he’d been with, but none of them touched him the way that Mr. Burman did, so strong but yet so gentle. His penis throbbed, aching to be freed from the confines of his briefs and the tight denim shorts that covered them.

“Stand up,” Mr. Burman said softly.

Peter complied readily, turning to face the man who remained seated on the sofa. Mr. Burman undid the button at the top of the boy’s shorts and slowly pulled down the zip, licking his lips in anticipation as he pushed them down over Peter’s hips. They fell to the floor; Peter stepped out of them. Mr. Burman ran his hand over the soft white cotton of Peter’s briefs, stroking the boy’s obvious erection. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pulling them all the way down. He looked up for a moment to admire his prize, marvelling at how cute and sexy Peter was, then leaned forward to devour the boy’s throbbing penis, working his tongue all over it.

Peter reached out a hand, running his fingers through Mr. Burman’s thick dark hair. The sensations the man was giving him were almost unbelievable. Not even Ian could suck as well as Mr. Burman did. And he liked it even better because today they didn’t have to rush. They were safely tucked up in Mr. Burman’s flat; nobody would disturb them here. He felt an orgasm approaching, but a moment later his teacher pulled away, smiling up at him.

“Did you like that?” the man asked.

Peter nodded in reply.

“I don’t want to make you cum yet,” Mr. Burman continued. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Peter sat back down and began to undo the man’s trousers. The job completed, he slipped noiselessly onto the floor, kneeling between the man’s legs. Mr. Burman raised his bottom slightly, allowing the naked boy to pull his trousers right off. Peter reached out, gripping the waistband of the man’s jockey shorts. Once again his host lifted himself off the sofa; allowing the boy to skin them down his legs. Peter licked his lips. On their previous meetings he had never had time to do more than give his teacher a cursory suck. Today would be different; today he would do it properly.

He gripped the base of the man’s penis between thumb and index finger and took a deep breath. He leaned forward, working his tongue over the large exposed glans before taking it into his mouth. He pushed slowly down, sucking in around three inches or so. Mr. Burman sighed and ruffled the boy’s hair; Peter did this as well as any boy ever had. The boy allowed his lips to slide slowly back up his teacher’s shaft, paused for a second then pushed down again, taking him in even deeper. With each pass Peter pushed further down till his nose plunged into the man’s thick pubic hair. Mr. Burman’s sighs turned to groans of amazement and delight; no boy had ever sucked him like this! His penis was clearly right in Peter’s throat; it seemed that the boy had no gag reflex at all.

“Peter!” he moaned. “Oh, that is so good! You’d better stop or I’ll cum!”

Peter obediently let him go, looking up, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Can I have it up my bum now?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Burman gasped, still catching his breath. “Of course you can!”

Mr. Burman shuffled along the sofa so that he was sitting in front of the coffee table.

“Bend over so I can get you ready,” he said quietly.

Peter positioned himself in front of the man, his hands resting on the table. A slimy finger slid right into him, touching his sex-gland. A bolt of electricity shot through his penis; it twitched wildly. A second finger joined the first, slowly opening him up. Then both fingers withdrew. He stood up, his feet still well apart, then lowered himself, reaching back to take Mr. Burman’s penis in his hand, guiding it onto his anus. He paused for a moment then pushed down, relaxing as he did so, allowing the man to penetrate him. Slowly and deliberately the boy continued to press himself into his teacher’s lap until he was completely impaled.

“Good boy, Peter,” Mr. Burman cooed, wrapping his left arm across the boy’s chest to steady him. “That feels wonderful. Now put your feet on the edge of the table.”

Peter raised his knees and did as he was asked. Mr. Burman gently tweaked his right nipple; that made his young penis twitch too. The man’s other hand slid into his lap, fondling his privates. Mr. Burman sank down into the sofa then immediately pushed his hips up, driving his penis deep into Peter’s rectum. After a few exploratory strokes he settled into a rhythm, fucking the boy with long powerful thrusts.

“Oooh! Oh sir! Ohhhh!!” Peter moaned, the heights of pleasure to which he was being taken rendering him almost delirious.

On they went, joined as one, the intensity of their union building with every passing second. Five minutes passed, maybe more.

“Ohhh!” Peter gasped, his breathing suddenly short and ragged. “Nnng! Nnnngg!!!” he groaned, his whole body shuddering violently. “Aaaaarrrggghhh!!!”

His penis came to life between the man’s fingers, three little jets of watery semen spurting onto his chest and tummy. Mr. Burman redoubled his efforts, forcing his penis even deeper into the boy’s bottom, fucking him harder, faster, giving him everything he had. Within a minute his climax was upon him; his penis swelled and jerked, sending volley after volley of thick, creamy fluid deep into Peter’s rectum.

Finally it was over. They sat there in silence, neither able to speak, much less move, Mr. Burman’s heart pounding against Peter’s back, his hot breath filling the boy’s nostrils. Peter let out a sigh of deep satisfaction. That had been the best ever, the intensity exceeding even his wildest fantasies. Now here he was, sitting totally relaxed in Mr. Burman’s lap, the man’s penis still buried deep inside him.

“Oh, sir!” he cooed. “I’ve got all your spunk up my bum!”

“And you like that, don’t you?” Mr. Burman breathed, gently stroking the boy’s chest.

“Oh, yes sir!” Peter responded eagerly.

Eventually he had to get up, the man’s penis making a quiet popping sound as it exited his bottom. He waddled off to the bathroom. Ten minutes later they were dressed and heading along the street in search of lunch.

“Where are we going?” Peter enquired.

“Just a little place I know,” Mr. Burman said softly. “I often come here when I’m in town. I do sometimes cook meals at home, but when I’m here there are so many good places to eat, there really is no point.”

He led the way into a public house. Strictly speaking, a boy of Peter’s age should not have been allowed in, but as long as they were having a meal nothing would be said. They selected a small table not far from the bar.

“The food here is rather good,” Mr. Burman said, smiling. “Nothing fancy though; I think you’ll like it.”

They both ordered lamb chops with mixed vegetables and roast potatoes. As they waited for the meal to arrive, Peter became aware of a well-dressed older man sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar. He judged the man to be around sixty, taller than Mr. Burnham, with white hair that was just beginning to thin. The man was looking at him. That was exciting! There was no doubt in his mind; the man was lusting after him, wanting some of the pleasures that Mr. Burman had just enjoyed. He turned slightly towards him and smiled, opening his legs a little. The man’s eyes widened. Peter was not a skinny boy and his shorts were tight; there was nothing on show but the sexual nature of the pose was obvious enough.

“The man over at the end of the bar is looking at me,” Peter whispered conspiratorially, leaning across the table.

Mr. Burman glanced across. Although he didn’t know the man to speak to, he recognised him as one of the regulars; he had seen him quite often when he had been here with Leo.

“Perhaps we should invite him to come back with us,” Peter hissed.

“Peter!” Mr. Burman scolded. “We will do no such thing; I don’t even know the man. And don’t get silly ideas; going off with strangers can be very dangerous.”

Mr. Burman was alarmed. With the musicians he had mentored, sex had arisen quite naturally as part of a loving, caring relationship. Peter was different; for Peter sex was an end in itself. If it was not readily available, he would seek it out wherever he could find it. That was worrying. He would need to educate the boy; make sure he knew how to take care of himself. That might not be easy.

An hour later they were strolling back to the flat. Lunch had been excellent, cooked to perfection. Revived and refreshed, they were both eager to resume their intimacy, though with this head-strong sexy boy, Mr. Burman had little idea of the direction that might take. They entered his apartment; he closed the door, locking it behind them. They headed directly to his bedroom, a good sign he thought.

“Sir, do you think I’m a naughty boy?” Peter asked, turning towards him, grinning provocatively.

“I think you’re very naughty indeed,” Mr. Burman responded.

“And what d’you do with naughty boys, sir?” Peter continued.

“I have to punish them, of course.”

“How, sir?” Peter insisted. “How d’you punish them?”

“How d’you think naughty boys should be punished?” Mr. Burman countered.

“Well, first I think they should have their bottoms smacked,” Peter said.

“Yes, and then what?” Mr. Burman enquired, becoming more aroused by the second.

“Then they should get sir’s cock up their bums!” Peter told him.

“Really?” the man responded breathlessly. “And what should sir do when he’s got it up there?”

“He should give them a good hard bumming until they’ve got all his spunk inside them!”

For Mr. Burman it was the perfect blueprint; it was clearly what the boy wanted and now he was going to get it. He moved the alarm clock from the bedside cabinet, moving the cabinet away from the wall to give them more space. He threw a pillow on top of it.

“Bend over there! he ordered.

Peter did as he was told. The man reached around his waist, undoing the button at the top of his shorts and pulling down the zip. He eased them down the boy’s thighs until they dropped to the floor. There was a pale stain in Peter’s underpants, clear evidence of the morning’s activities. He was right; Peter was a very naughty boy. He raised his arm, bringing it quickly down, his hand striking the boy firmly across the buttocks.

“Ohhh!!” Peter gasped, his penis jumping to attention.

A second blow quickly followed. A moment later the boy’s underpants were round his ankles, his anus clearly dilated, the area to either side chafed bright red. Mr. Burman smacked him twice more, once across the buttocks and once across the tops of his thighs, the boy whimpering at the ferocity of the assault. He picked up the tube of KY, smearing some over his penis. He made no move to put any into Peter’s bottom; it was clearly unnecessary, and in any case naughty boys like him did not merit such consideration. He moved in close, guiding his penis onto the boy’s sphincter. He held Peter around the thighs and thrust it right in.

“Ohhh, sir!” Peter wailed. “You feel so big inside me!”

“Right!” Mr. Burman growled. “Now you’re going to find out what happens to naughty boys!”

He set to his task, fucking the boy with strong, controlled thrusts, Peter’s quiet whimpering simply music to his ears; he’d asked for a good, hard fucking, and that’s exactly what he was getting. In the trunk store and their few meeting in the music room he’d had to rush, bringing himself to orgasm much more quickly than he would have liked, but now he was doing what he did best, giving the boy the type of long, hard fucking that Leo had loved so much. He was sure that none of the boys that Peter had been with would have been able to last anywhere like as long. He resisted the temptation to play with the youngster’s penis; he had other plans for that. If the lad erupted with no external stimulation then so be it, but that would be unlikely, he reasoned, as he’d cum barely two hours previously.

The man’s judgement of pace had been gained from years of practice, fast enough to give both him and the boy plenty of stimulation, but not fast enough to induce an orgasm; he could keep this up for as long as he wanted. Ten minutes passed, then twelve. In front of him Peter was almost sobbing now, his penis aching for release. It was time to finish it. Gradually he increased the tempo until he was fucking the boy as hard as he could. In less than a minute the quivering in his legs announced his impending orgasm. He strengthened his grip on Peter’s thighs; a few thrusts later he was dizzily hanging on as the day’s second load of semen was deposited in the lad’s rectum. He remained perfectly still, gulping in the air as the room appeared to swim before him.

Taking one final deep breath, he slowly withdrew. He turned the boy round, sinking to his knees in front of him. He devoured the lad’s penis, sucking him eagerly. It was over in seconds, a frenzy of slurping and swallowing as Peter’s watery boy-cum spurted into his mouth, his own creamy ejaculate spluttering noisily from the boy’s anus and trickling down his legs. Satisfied that he had consumed all that Peter had to give, he finally let him go.

“You’d better go to the bathroom,” he said softly.

When the boy returned a few minutes later, Mr. Burman was seated on the bed.

“Put your underpants on and sit here,” he said, patting the space next to him.

Peter did as he was asked. Mr. Burman wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder, their lips meeting in a wonderful, sensuous kiss. He rolled onto his back, pulling Peter over on top of him, their tongues still meshed together. Peter kissed beautifully; he could hardly believe it. It had taken Leo months to learn how to kiss as well as that.

“You’re a very special boy,” he said quietly, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“I bet you said that to Leo too!” Peter replied cheekily.

“Of course I did,” Mr. Burman responded, smiling warmly. “You’re both special but you’re also very different.”

“How’s that then sir?” Peter enquired.

“Leo was always more than happy to do whatever I suggested,” the man told him.

“You mean I’m naughty and he wasn’t,” Peter offered.

“Something like that,” Mr. Burman said, still smiling. “You are naughty, but you’re very, very nice.”

The man ran his hand over the front of the Peter’s briefs; the boy was fully erect, ready to be fucked again right now. But that could wait. It was barely half past two; they had another two hours until he would have to go home. They fell into another, wild, passionate kiss. Peter might be head-strong and aggressively sexual, but he was also wonderfully affectionate, the man noted. How to tame him without destroying the good qualities, that was the question. Their mouths parted. Peter’s eyes were sparkling.

“You know sir,” Peter said brightly, “you’ve been worried about me being seen around the music room so much. I’ve been thinking about that. I know I’m not good at music; I can’t sing and I don’t play an instrument, but I do like it, listening to it I mean. I wondered if I could organise a music appreciation society, you know, I’d play records of stuff by different composers, but I wouldn’t just play the records; I’d have to tell them a bit about the composer, when the piece was written, all that sort of thing. What d’you think sir?”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Mr. Burman said softly.

“Of course, you’d have to help me, wouldn’t you sir? You know, advising me what to play, and what I needed to say about it, so I’d have to be around quite a lot, wouldn’t I? The other thing I thought is we could have one session each week for the younger boys playing, you know, stuff like ‘Carnival of the Animals’; I used to love that, and one session for the older lads.”

“Very good, Peter,” Mr. Burman responded, clearly impressed. “You’ve obviously thought about it a great deal; you could use the music classroom where the record player is while I was in the rehearsal studio. It would be a valuable addition to the school’s musical activities. Thank you for suggesting it.”

It was as though his prayers had been answered. This was exactly the sort of thing Peter needed to do. It would get him involved; make him feel part of things. He felt sure that the boy’s academic work would improve as a result.

“Of course, I couldn’t allow you to do it if you were slacking in class,” he said quietly.

“I know that sir,” Peter said firmly. “The other thing I wondered about was whether occasionally we could have another session where one of the older boys presented some music that they liked. It wouldn’t have to be classical; it could be anything.”

“Hmmm!” Mr. Burman mused. “That’s not a bad idea either. But they couldn’t just play pop records; there would have to be a theme to it and they’d have to present it properly, just like you will. And they wouldn’t be able to play it full-blast either if I’ve got a rehearsal next door.”

“That’s okay sir,” Peter confirmed. “That’s what I thought too. And just one other thing; you know when you’re organising a concert? I wondered if I could help, you know, sending the tickets out, drawing up the seating plan, that sort of thing.”

“Well, Peter,” Mr. Burman commented, “that brain of yours has been working overtime! That sort of help would be most welcome. Thank you for offering.”

Peter snuggled up to him. He’d been worried that the man would dismiss his ideas; tell him he wouldn’t be able to do what was needed, but he hadn’t. He felt happier than he could ever remember; at the age of twelve he’d finally met an adult who believed in him and cared about him. And that same adult was good looking and very sexy; it was no wonder Leo liked him so much. Sex with Mr. Burman was so much better than it had ever been with Robert; there really was no comparison. And before he went home they’d do it again and it’d be fantastic; it always was.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mr. Burman checked his watch. It was ten to four; they’d been lying snuggled up together for over an hour. Once again he ran his hand over the front of the boy’s briefs, still fully hard. Peter was ready and so was he.

“Time these came off,” he whispered, tugging gently at the lad’s underpants.

Peter skinned them down his legs and kicked them away. Mr. Burman pulled a pillow, covering it with a towel that he kept in the bedside cabinet. This time they’d do it in his favourite position, Peter lying on his tummy, legs spread, the pillow under his hips, completely submissive. He’d be on top, dominant, his penis pinning the boy to the bed. Every boy he’d ever brought to the flat had been fucked like that. He rolled Peter onto his stomach, the pillow under his hips. He knelt between the boy’s legs, smiling as he admired his prize; Peter was as delightful a specimen of boyhood as had ever encountered.

He ran an un-lubed finger into Peter’s anus. The lad was still quite messy; there was no resistance at all. A small amount of KY applied to his penis and he was ready. He lowered himself into position, guiding his penis onto Peter’s sphincter. He penetrated the boy at the first attempt, pushing down until the whole length of his penis was buried in the youngster’s bottom.

“Oooh sir!” Peter moaned.

“Good boy!” the man cooed. “Now I’m really going to fuck you!”

He set to work, fucking the boy with hard, steady thrusts. Peter lay moaning and whimpering beneath him, the man’s warm breath swirling around his face, the fucking motion forcing his penis to rub against the rough towel. Mr. Burman settled himself lower, gripping the boy’s upper arms, his heart thumping between the Peter’s shoulder blades, thrusting into him even harder.

“Sir! Oh, sir!!” Peter gasped, the increased ferocity of Mr. Burman’s assault taking him completely by surprise, the heady combination of pain and pleasure quite indescribable.

The boy’s orgasm was close and could not be delayed. In less than a minute his whole body shuddered, his legs flailing wildly, his sphincter closing tight around Mr. Burman’s invading penis. A moment later the boy’s penis jerked into action, more little jets of spunk squirting onto the towel, leaving his tummy wet and sticky.

“Oh, yes!” Mr. Burman declared triumphantly. “You’ve cum!”

It was a recipe that rarely failed. Even the two pre-pubescent ten year olds that he’d brought here had had dry orgasms when fucked in this position, and a couple of supposedly straight thirteen year olds that he’d entertained in his younger days had ejaculated in spite of themselves.

Today, however, he wasn’t finished or even close to it. Having had two orgasms already in the previous few hours, at the age of thirty eight producing a third one was going to take some time. On he ploughed, fucking the boy relentlessly, driving into him with all the force he could muster. Finally his breathing began to shorten, hot blasts of air flooding Peter’s nostrils.

“Oh!” he gasped. “Nnng! Nnng!! Aaaaaahhhh!!!!”

His penis jerked somewhat reluctantly into action, several more jets of spunk spurting into Peter’s bottom. He lay right down on top of the boy, his heart pounding harder than ever against Peter’s back. His balls ached; he was completely drained. Finally he lifted himself up, his soft penis sliding noiselessly out. Peter rolled onto his side. They kissed passionately. The boy’s bottom was sore; it probably felt worse than the day that Robert had taken his virginity, but he didn’t care. The whole experience, the whole day, had been magical. Today his life had changed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Peter strode into the music room, carefully closing the door. He walked over to Mr. Burman, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The man pulled him into a gentle hug.

“So what are you smiling about?” he enquired.

“I’m all yours now,” Peter informed him. “I’m not going with Robert any more.”

“Really,” Mr. Burman said. “Nothing to do with me, I hope?”

“Well, it was actually,” Peter said casually. “Robert didn’t like sharing me, but it’s okay; he’d rather be with Darren Proctor and I’d rather be with you, so it’s cool.”

Indeed it was, Mr. Burman mused; he didn’t like sharing the boy either. Darren Proctor was a nice looking boy and a games player like Robert; those two would be well suited. Robert and Peter had always seemed a rather odd combination.

“So now you’re all mine,” he said, returning Peter’s smile.

“Well, Alex and I still help each other out at night,” Peter said. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Alex, that’s the South African boy?”

“Yes,” Peter confirmed.

“And what exactly does helping each other out mean?” he enquired playfully.

“Well sometimes we suck each other off, you know, sixty-nine, but usually we take turns bumming each other. But that’s just ‘cause we’re mates; it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Mr. Burman said, still smiling. “You’re just boys being boys. You carry on; I don’t mind at all. Alex is very quiet, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s great when you get to know him,” Peter said.

“Well you look after each other,” the man said softly. “I can’t be with you all the time; I wish I could.”

Mr. Burman breathed deeply, allowing himself a smile of satisfaction, his arms still wrapped around Peter’s back. He’d never dreamed he’d become attached to the lad so quickly, but things had gone far better than he’d expected. The boy’s attitude to his studies had shown a radical improvement and he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into preparing for the launch of the music appreciation society; they would hold the first meeting in two weeks. And now they’d have wonderful, uninhibited sex and they’d both enjoy every second of it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The launch of the Music Appreciation Society had been a great success. Peter had prepared meticulously. The miserable autumn weather had provided them with a ready supply of boys looking for something to do and somewhere to stay out of the cold, but the music they had selected and the way Peter had presented it had held their attention for the full forty minutes that each session had lasted. Mr. Burman had been concerned that Peter would be nervous in front of the older boys, but in fact he’d performed superbly, displaying no nerves at all.

Even more important, Peter’s academic work had shown a marked improvement, so today he would have his reward. He would accompany Mr. Burman to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall, staying overnight at his teacher’s flat before returning to school the following morning, a treat that Leo had enjoyed numerous times. They set off in Mr. Burman’s Jaguar directly after lunch. Saturday afternoons at school were boring, especially at this time of year; there was no reason for them to stay around. By quarter to three they were driving across Chelsea Bridge. Fifteen minutes later the car was parked and they were walking up the stairs to the man’s London flat.

“The concert’s at seven and will finish just after nine,” Mr. Burman said. “I’ve ordered a taxi for half past six; we’ll have a snack before we go. Afterwards, we’ll have dinner; I’ve booked a table for nine thirty at a restaurant not far from the hall. We should get back here a little after half past ten. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful sir!” Peter said, smiling warmly.

“So what would you like to do now?” Mr. Burman enquired.

“Oh, I think you know sir!” Peter responded, giving the man a mischievous grin.

Mr. Burman led the way to his bedroom. Slowly and sensuously they undressed each other, their hands roaming everywhere. Finally they removed each other’s briefs. They were both completely erect. They got onto the bed, lips locked together, tongues intertwined. Mr. Burman was in heaven; Peter kissed with more passion and enthusiasm than any boy he’d ever met.

He kissed and licked his way down Peter’s body, paying special attention to both nipples and the boy’s tummy-button. He skirted round his ultimate objective, licking the youngster’s balls before sucking them in, swirling them around as though weighing them in his mouth. Eventually he could resist no longer, his lips sliding over the head of Peter’s four-inch penis. Slowly he worked his way down until the whole of the boy’s erection was in his mouth. He sucked it lovingly, expertly, Peter moaning and gasping in appreciation, running his fingers through the man’s thick dark hair. A greasy finger entered the boy’s anus, pushing in deep to massage his knobbly sex-gland. Peter was in total ecstasy.

“Ooh! Ooh sir!” he groaned. “I’m gonna ----,”

He was unable to finish. His penis jerked violently, three volleys of boy-cum spurting powerfully into Mr. Burman’s mouth. After a few seconds the man let him go, sitting up and licking his lips. Peter was still struggling for breath, his chest rising and falling. They resumed their kissing. Peter would soon be hard again, Mr. Burman noted; boys of that age always were.

He was not disappointed; within a few minutes Peter was eager for further action. Now it was his turn, licking all over Mr. Burman’s chest, down over his stomach until he reached the man’s erection. He licked the exposed head eagerly, then opened his mouth and sucked it in, pushing down a little at a time until his nose was buried in a nest of dark pubic hair. Mr. Burman ran his hand down Peter’s back and over his bottom, his lubed-up finger quickly locating the boy’s sphincter. He pushed inside. Peter groaned with pleasure. He loved that feeling; he wanted more. His lips released the man’s penis.

“Are you going to bum me, sir?” he asked, a note of urgency in his voice.

“Yes, Peter. How would you like it?”

“On all fours, please sir!”

Mr. Burman smiled to himself. Peter on all fours would do nicely for now. At bedtime they’d fuck lying on their sides, with him spooned up behind the boy. Once finished, he’d pull the covers over them and fall asleep with Peter still impaled on his penis. Tomorrow morning he’d fuck the boy on his tummy. Those two were a given, but for their first fuck of the weekend it was the boy’s choice, and he’d chosen well.

He spread a towel over the bed, aware that with a boy of Peter’s age and sex-drive, a second orgasm was more likely than not. Peter moved into position, his hips pushed well back behind his knees, his head resting on the pillow, his shoulders almost touching the mattress. Mr. Burman worked some more lubricant into the boy’s rectum, smeared a little over his own erect penis, then shuffled in close, guiding it onto its target. He took a deep breath, held it in position and pushed, immediately penetrating the boy. He sighed deeply. Entering a cute boy’s most private place was one of the best feelings one could possibly have, the pleasure only exceeded by what would ultimately follow.

He set to work, fucking the boy with long, powerful thrusts, Peter’s moaning and whimpering providing the perfect background music. A few short weeks ago none of this would have seemed possible; he hardly knew the boy. Peter had been a wastrel, idling his time away, one of the school’s failures. How things had changed; the boy’s response to the attention he’d shown him had been nothing short of remarkable. There was much still to be done; it was early days, but the foundations had been put in place. If things continued on their present course Peter would leave the school in a little over eighteen months time having achieved far more than had seemed likely at the start of term, a self-confident young man that both the school and his parents could be proud of. So here he was, kneeling on his bed, giving the lad what he most desired.

He reached down and fondled the boy’s penis, achingly hard, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Peter’s moans grew louder, less controlled, warning of his impending orgasm. Mr. Burman increased the pace of his thrusts, fucking the boy with everything he had.

“Nnng! Nnng!! Nnnnng!!!” Peter moaned as the shuddering climax took hold, his penis jerking into life between Mr. Burman’s fingers, little jets of watery semen squirting onto the towel.

“Yes! Yes! Yessss!!” the man gasped in response, volley after volley of thick, creamy fluid flooding into Peter’s rectum.

He took several deep breaths. If Peter’s parents knew how the transformation in their son had been accomplished, they would, of course, be horrified. He would be condemned as an evil pervert. But they didn’t know, and they didn’t know because, when it came down to it, they didn’t care. So at the end of the day they would be happy, the school would be happy and most important of all, both he and Peter would be happy. Now what, he reflected, could possibly be wrong with that?