All the usual disclaimers apply. (Yawn) Anyone who hasn’t got the message yet is not of this world.
Well, this begins the extra bit of Jim Cooper’s story that I mentioned last week. After sacrificing a perfectly serviceable ending, I hope it’s going to be worth it. So read on and enjoy!
Feedback will be as welcome as ever; please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
SNAPSHOT EIGHTEEN - ‘A SPORTING CHANCE’ PART EIGHT
Jim didn’t bother with the Far East. After being parted from William he simply couldn’t face it. He’d never been so closely involved with a boy as he had with William, but it had finally come to an end and he had to move on; associating with paid companions would only remind him of what he’d lost. So he kept himself busy as he had two years previously, working out at the gym, attending concerts, visiting historical sites and going to the theatre.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
At the interval, Jim strolled out of the auditorium and made his way to the bar. He was standing alone drinking a pint when a man strode across to him. The man appeared to be roughly his own age but looked a little out of shape. Jim didn’t recognise him at all.
“Jim Cooper, isn’t it?” the man said heartily, putting his hand out.
He spoke with a pronounced upper-class accent. The voice was very familiar; Jim just couldn’t place who it belonged to.
“Tris Kirby,” the man announced.
“Tristan!” Jim said, taking the man’s proffered hand. “Well, this is a surprise!”
“It’s been a long time!” Tristan said. “You’re still keeping yourself in good nick, I see!”
Jim allowed himself a wry smile. Fifteen years previously, as stars of the school rugby team, they’d both been in excellent shape. Jim had maintained it, more or less; Tristan quite obviously hadn’t.”
“So what are you doing with yourself?” Jim enquired.
“What I always said I was going to do,” Tristan replied cryptically.
Jim knew well enough what that meant. Back in their school days Tristan’s attraction to younger boys had been every bit as strong as his own; in their final year they had competed with each other in penetrating as many cute new boys as possible. But Tristan had never harboured any illusions of giving it up when he left. He’d gone on to physical education college with the express aim of finding a post at a prep school where he could fuck little boys to his heart’s content.
“The old man got me shunted off to a nice quiet backwater where I wouldn’t cause any embarrassment,” Tristan added quietly, by way of explanation.
“Oh, I see,” Jim said, nodding sagely.
The bell sounded to signal the resumption of the performance.
“What are you doing afterwards?” Tristan demanded. “Let’s meet here,” he continued without waiting for an answer. “We’ll go to my flat; we can talk there.”
After the performance, they took a cab to Wigmore Street. Tristan led the way to his flat, ushering Jim inside. For Jim, it was like stepping into a different world. His parents were prosperous; they’d never been short of money. Tristan’s family was in a different league entirely. They were ‘old money’, landed gentry, Tristan’s father the eleventh Earl of Northampton. They strolled through to the lounge, Jim sitting on the sofa, Tristan on the armchair opposite.
“Nice place,” Jim said quietly, knowing full well that buying a flat in this part of London must have cost a fortune.
“Well, I’ve got accommodation at school,” Tristan said airily, “so I decided to buy a flat in town. Well, as I was saying, I’m teaching rugby and cricket out in the wilds of Suffolk, pleasant little school. I’ll never get rich, of course, but I’m able to indulge my vices without anyone getting wind of it. It’s fortunate I’m not heir to the title. I just have to hope older brother doesn’t pop his clogs before the old man does; that would cause a problem. So what are you doing?”
“Much the same,” Jim said, “only athletics rather than cricket. We’re down in Sussex.”
“Really?” Tristan said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you went to uni to read history?”
“I did,” Jim confirmed. “I got an upper second.”
“But you’re not using it,” Tristan commented.
“Not at the moment,” Jim admitted.
“May I take it that your ‘interests’ didn’t change in the way you thought they would?” Tristan enquired.
“Pretty much,” Jim said. “I did try; During my first term at Newcastle I even screwed a couple of girls, but it just wasn’t working; you know how it is.”
“Well, well, well!” Tristan commented. “So I suppose you’re fucking cute little boys like it was going out of style.”
“Well, not exactly,” Jim said.
“Good, god!” Tristan exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you’ve finished up at one of these anti-sex establishments!”
“No,” Jim said. “My first school was like that. This place is fine, but everything has to be done very discreetly. As far as we’re concerned, the name of the game is serial monogamy, in theory anyway.”
“Only one boy at a time?” Tristan queried. “Sounds terribly boring.”
“Well, it’s not the old-fashioned free-for-all, but it suits me pretty well,” Jim said, smiling. “I’ve had some amazing relationships over, what is it, seven years now. And I can have a little bit on the side; I just have to make sure it’s kept very quiet.”
“Oh, I see,” Tristan said. “Well, chacun à son gout. And I suppose your rugby team’s the best in the area?”
“Among the prep schools it usually is,” Jim said quietly. “We struggle against the two grammar schools we play, but they have one hundred and twenty boys a year to our thirty.”
“You always were a worker!” Tristan commented. “I do what’s necessary; the teams are all right, nothing special. Everybody seems happy enough. D’you play any sevens?”
“We haven’t,” Jim said, “Why?”
“Oh, I run a sevens tournament at our place every year, first Saturday in March. You could come along if you want.”
“Sounds interesting,” Jim said. “Let me see what we’ve got on.”
He took a fixture list from his inside pocket.
“We’re supposed to be away at Whitestone Hall that day,” he said, “but I could probably re-arrange that. They’re only four miles away; we could even play them after school. Suffolk’s a long way though; I’m not sure about the travelling. How many schools are involved?”
“Eight, usually.” Tristan said, “split into two pools of four, so each team gets three matches, seven minutes each way. The top two in each pool go through to the semi-finals.”
“That sounds like a very long day for the teams that get through,” Jim commented, “and the driving would be a killer. I’m not sure I could cope with it.”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” Tristan said, smiling. “You can stop over. One of the good things about our place is that it’s huge. We’ve got far more accommodation than we need; two big dorms and a guest bedroom to be precise. And guess who’s in charge of it all?”
“Really?” Jim said, grinning back.
“Have been for the past five years,” Tristan said, giving a satisfied smirk. “My wing has the dorms where Upper Fourth sleep, when that’s what they do, plus the two empty ones.”
“Oh, I see,” Jim said. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Tristan said dismissively. “We do it quite often, especially during the cricket season.” He lowered his voice. “I take it your boys wouldn’t be averse to going home nursing a few social interaction abrasions?
Jim swallowed hard. He’d never heard of ‘social interaction abrasions’ before, but the meaning was clear enough.
“Well, it’s not the sort of thing that our lads usually get up to,” he said guardedly.
“My lot usually smuggle in a couple of younger kids on a Saturday night,” Tristan said blandly, “but having a whole visiting team to entertain is a lot more interesting.”
“So are all your boys . . . ?” Jim queried, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh god, yes!” Tristan guffawed. “They’re all at it, pretty much. Well, we do have a few non-combatants, but you wouldn’t touch any of them with a barge pole.”
“Hmmm!” Jim said thoughtfully. “It’s not quite like that at our place. Oh, there’s plenty going on, but the boys who have a younger friend are expected to stick with them. That’s not strictly enforced, of course; I’m sure some of them do have a bit on the side now and then, but that’s about it.”
“You should bring them along!” Tristan said, smirking. “It’d open their eyes! And you don’t have to worry about the driving. You’re held in pretty high regard at your place, right?”
“Yes, I think so,” Jim said.
“And the school’s not exactly strapped for cash, is it?” Tristan continued.
“It doesn’t seem to be,” Jim conceded.
“Well then,” Tristan said. “Ask them for the money to hire a coach. I’ll fix it up for you. There’s a little firm we always use. They’ve got a couple of twenty five seaters, plenty big enough for the lads to stretch out after a hard night. This chap who teaches English at a school about five miles away supplements his income by driving for them. He knows the score so there are never any embarrassing questions.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like fun,” Jim admitted.
“Look,” Tristan said. “One of the schools that we have in this sevens tournament is a pain in the arse. They never turned up at all this year, so one of the teams from their group had to go home after only two matches. If you’re prepared to take their place, I won’t even invite them. Anyway, it would be good to bring in a team from further afield, and it is a bloody good day, never mind the nocturnal activities.”
“Fair enough,” Jim said, smiling. “So how do you, er . . . , operate?”
“I have my own rooms,” Tristan said. “I do have ‘a boy’; cute little thing, you’d like him. He’s just finished third year; sleeps with me most nights. Not even supposed to be in my wing, by rights, but he’s not complaining so nobody takes a blind bit of notice. And there’s no problem with me indulging myself with one of the others when I feel like it.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it made,” Jim commented. “So what happens when you have a visiting team stop over?”
“Well, their master uses the guest bedroom,” Tristan said casually. “He invariably has a boy with him, so we swap; I sleep with his, he sleeps with mine. I invariably indulge myself with some of the other visiting boys too, and their chap usually samples some more of our lads; after all, what’s sauce for the goose and all that.”
Jim could hardly believe what he was hearing; by the sound of things it was even more of a free-for-all than he’d experienced in his own school days.
“Don’t they mind?” he enquired
“Not at all!” Tristan assured him. “Most of the visiting schools have been doing it for years; they know what to expect. Our lads look forward to it; there’s always speculation about who the visiting master will pick. That’ll be even stronger with you being a completely unknown quantity.”
“I’ll have to brief our boys very carefully,” Jim said, “they’re not really used to this sort of thing.”
“You won’t bring any non-combatants, will you?” Tristan asked. “That would be terribly boring.”
“I’m sure I can manage that,” Jim assured him.
“It doesn’t matter if your team captain is top only,” Tristan explained. “That’s expected, you know, perks of the job. For the others, well, it’s open season, but I’m sure your lads will give as good as they get.”
Jim nodded; Darren was pretty much bottom only, but the other boys would more than make up for that. He checked his watch; it was ten past eleven.
“I must be going,” he said, or I’ll end up sleeping on the station.”
“You can stop here if you like,” Tristan offered. “There’s a spare bedroom.”
“No thanks,” Jim said politely. “I’ve got things I need to do in the morning.”
He made his way out, taking a cab to Victoria. He sat quietly in the back, mulling over the events of the evening. Meeting Tristan after so long had come right out of the blue. Somehow he’d allowed the man to talk him into taking a group of Hartswood boys to what would amount to an all night orgy; he could hardly believe he’d agreed to it. Of course, he could always back out, make some excuse or other, but that wasn’t his style. He’d told Tristan that they’d go to the sevens tournament, and go they would.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
On the day that they returned to school, an hour before supper, Darren made his way to Jim’s office, just as William had done the year before.
“Am I your boy now sir?” he enquired. “You said I would be.”
“Of course,” Jim confirmed. “It was what I said, and it was what I meant.”
He drew him into a delicious, passionate kiss, running his hands over the boy’s crotch and onto his cute little bottom, the lad’s erection pressing against his thigh. After a couple of minutes he pulled away. He sat down, reaching up to undo Darren’s shorts. He quickly eased them down, the boy’s skimpy white briefs following immediately. He noted that Darren’s penis was longer than it had been, thicker too, completely filling his foreskin.
Jim leaned forwards, licking his lips. He took it into his mouth, pushing slowly down on it until he had it all. He sucked it gently, slowly easing back the foreskin and working his tongue over the small, shiny head. Darren began to buck, thrusting eagerly into Jim’s mouth. Jim slipped his hand between Darren’s legs, a well-lubed finger homing in on the boy’s anus. He pushed inside.
“Oooh, sir!” Darren groaned, holding onto Jim’s head. “Uh! Uh! Nnnnggg!!!”
His penis jerked violently, pulsing repeatedly as it jammed itself against the roof of Jim’s mouth. Finally he subsided, slowly easing himself away from Jim’s lips. He hadn’t ejaculated, but Jim sensed that it wouldn’t be long before he did.
“You’re very tight,” Jim commented. “Not managed to do anything during the holidays?”
“No sir,” Darren said. “I had mum and dad and my two sisters around the whole time. So are you going to fuck me sir?”
“Yes, of course,” Jim said.
“Is it going to hurt, sir?” Darren asked. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it probably will,” Jim said gently. “But you still want it, don’t you?”
“Yes sir!” Darren breathed.
They moved into position. Jim worked some more KY into the boy’s anus. He was very tight, maybe even tighter than William had been the year before. Jim quickly knelt down, pulling off the boy’s shoes and slipping his shorts and underpants over his feet. He stood up again, leaving Darren’s briefs where he could easily reach them. He moved in close, guiding his penis onto the boy’s sphincter. He pushed hard. There was no movement. He increased the pressure. Suddenly, the ring of muscle gave way and he slipped inside.
“Aaaaggghhhh!!” Darren cried, stifling a scream.
“Quiet! Jim breathed, picking up the lad’s underpants and stuffing them into his mouth. “You’ve done the hard part. Bite on those while I give you what you came here for. Now relax and enjoy it!”
Darren sank his teeth into the soft cotton as the games master’s penis advanced steadily into him. The pain was excruciating, his sphincter stretched almost to breaking point. He was covered in perspiration, eyes clamped shut, his erection completely gone. Within a few seconds he had it all, the man’s thick pubic hair scrunched up against his bottom. Very slowly, the invading weapon slid back, leaving only the head inside, the pain easing as it went. Moments later it thrust right in again.
The fucking continued; long, powerful strokes, driving repeatedly over that hard, sensitive spot deep within him. Slowly, inexorably the pain ebbed away, subsumed by sensations of sheer pleasure, the pleasure he’d craved since Julian had taken his virginity almost two years previously. His erection returned, his throbbing penis begging for release. The man’s fingers wrapped themselves around it, heightening his pleasure still further. He began to shake, his legs barely able to support him, his penis swelling and jiggling in the man’s hand.
“Oh, yes!!” Jim whispered. “That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
The question was unnecessary; it was exactly what the boy wanted, what he always wanted.
Jim continued his assault, pounding the lad’s bottom even harder.
“Now take what I’ve got for you!” he announced. “Yes! Yes! Ohhhhhhh!!!”
His penis reared up, copious amounts of semen flooding into Darren’s rectum. Slowly and carefully he withdrew, gently removing the briefs from the boy’s mouth. The lad’s anus was stretched wide, the man’s ejaculate trickling out and dribbling down his legs.
“Are you all right?” Jim enquired. “It seems you were waiting for that.”
“Oh yes sir,” Darren gasped, still struggling for breath. “So now I’m really your boy, aren’t I sir?”
“Very nearly,” Jim said. “By next Sunday morning you will be.”
“What happens then sir?” Darren asked.
“You have to get up really early,” Jim told him, about quarter past six. As soon as you’re washed and dressed come and meet me on the car park; I’ll take you to my flat.”
“So did you used to take William there, sir?” Darren queried, his eyes widening.
“Oh yes,” Jim replied casually, “and Tim before that.”
“Wow!” Darren exhaled. “I had no idea!”
“Of course, you mustn’t breathe a word,” Jim said gently, wrapping his arm around Darren’s shoulder. “Taking you off the premises could get me in a lot of trouble.”
“I won’t sir, I promise,” Darren assured him.
A few minutes later the boy was cleaned up, dressed and on his way to supper.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The first rugby trial confirmed what Jim already knew. The new team would be a shadow of the previous season’s record breakers. They didn’t have as many big lads, so pack would be much weaker. They still had Grant Shipway at tight-head prop looking more powerful than ever, but there was nobody anywhere like as strong to play at loose-head, which would make the scrum unbalanced. With Alex Pienaar switching from centre to scrum half, the backs looked competent, but no more; they certainly didn’t have anyone of Pascal’s quality.
The season was going to be a struggle. The boys were bound to measure their performance against what their predecessors had achieved, so even maintaining team spirit wouldn’t be easy. As they left the field, Jim and assistant coach Andrew met up with John Halford.
“It’s looking very thin compared with last year,” Jim commented. I’ve not even settled on a captain yet. Any of the boys who played last year could do it, but none of them is the obvious choice.”
“I’d narrow it down to two,” John said, “Grant and Alex; they deserve it more than the others. I’ll let you choose.”
“I know about Grant,” Andrew commented. “What’s the story with Alex?”
“Oh, he had a miserable time when he first came here,” John said. “He was in a strange country thousands of miles from home; he had kids picking on him because of the way he spoke, which I only found out about some time later. Anyway, Toby took him under his wing and the progress he’s made since has been outstanding. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what this school’s about.”
“Oh, I see,” Andrew said, nodding.
He strode away towards the staff room, leaving Jim and John alone.
“So I take it you knew about Toby and Alex,” Jim queried.
“Oh, yes,” John confirmed. “It was because of Toby that I found out about Alex getting picked on, but you know what he was like; he’d largely sorted it out by then. It was an awkward situation; he already had a younger friend. To his credit, he didn’t dump Ian so he could be with Alex; he kept both of them, and Ian obviously knew what was going on. He was Toby’s younger friend; Alex was Toby’s protégé. They kept it all very quiet so I wasn’t going to say anything when it was to everyone’s benefit to let it carry on.”
“You really care about the boys, don’t you?” Jim queried.
“Boarding school can be hard, especially for someone in Alex’s situation,” John said quietly. “He needed Toby, especially after that business with Atkinson. Yes, I do care about the boys. I care about helping them to get the best out of themselves; that’s what their parents pay us for. And that, at the end of the day, is what will determine whether or not this school continues to prosper.”
“Well, that makes sense,” Jim agreed.
“And it seems Alex has now taken on the mantle of being Ian’s older friend,” John continued. “I’ve noticed them together a couple of times already.”
Jim smiled to himself; the deputy head’s knowledge of what went on was quite remarkable. Fortunately, it didn’t extend to some of his clandestine activities, or at least he hoped it didn’t.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Jim sat in the car and waited. He’d been with Darren on two further occasions. Although not as painful as it had been on their first meeting, penetration had remained difficult. Darren had taken it willingly enough, but it seemed that the interval between their couplings was too long to allow the boy to become accustomed to it. Seeing the lad more often was the obvious solution, but he was unwilling to compromise his early morning assignations with Gavin. Although performing more frequently would not be a problem, he reflected, it would take the edge off things. He didn’t want that; he valued the special feeling of having sex when he was really hungry for it.
He checked his watch; it was six thirty three. Darren was late, later than Tim or William had ever been. He looked around; there was no sign of him. He clenched his teeth in frustration. After a day and a half’s abstinence he was as hungry for sex as he’d ever been, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Then, thirty seconds later, he appeared as if from nowhere, trotting towards the car.
“Sorry I’m late, sir,” he said breathlessly, getting in next to the man. “I got up a bit late.”
Jim started the car and they headed out of the gate. Five minutes later they were back at the flat.
“Wow, sir! This place is really cool!” Darren said enthusiastically.
“And this is where I’m really going to make you my boy,” Jim responded, nuzzling Darren’s hair.
He ushered the boy into the bedroom. Very sensuously they undressed each other until they were both down to their underpants. Jim sat on the bed, gently pulling down Darren’s white briefs. He licked his lips and leaned forwards, sucking eagerly on the boy’s erection. He slipped his hand between Darren’s legs, his index finger homing in on the lad’s pucker. The tickled it but didn’t push inside; there was plenty of time for that. After less than a minute he pulled away.
He stood up. Without any prompting, Darren knelt down in front of him, skinning his jockey shorts right down his legs. He kicked them off, stroking Darren’s hair as the lad sucked his penis. It wasn’t something Darren was especially good at, willing though he was; he simply couldn’t take as much as most of the other boys he’d been with. It was very enjoyable, but Darren’s jaw soon began to ache.
“Leave it for now,” Jim said quietly, gently easing himself away.
They climbed onto the bed, Jim drawing the boy into a wild, passionate kiss. Darren had been very affectionate from the very first time they’d had sex. Lying on a large comfortable bed, totally relaxed he was simply outstanding, their lips locked together, his tongue wrestling with Jim’s as though trying to push down the man’s throat, the aroma of hot, sexy boy driving the man crazy. He rolled onto his back, pulling Darren over on top of him. He ran his hands down the boy’s back and over his beautiful bottom. He held the lad’s cheeks apart, his index finger once more locating Darren’s anus.
“Oh! Sir! Sir!” Darren gasped. “Oh! This is the best! I want you to fuck me, sir; fuck me hard! Come on sir, make me your boy!”
“I will, I will,” Jim said, stroking Darren’s hair. “But there’s plenty of time; I want something else first. Kneel across my chest.”
Darren moved into position. Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows, opening his mouth and pushing out his tongue.
“Come on!” he urged.
Darren crawled forwards, pushing his erect penis into Jim’s waiting mouth. As Darren began to pump his hips, Jim placed his hands under the boy’s bottom, holding him steady. In less than a minute, Darren’s breathing began to shorten.
“Uh! Uhh!” he moaned, grabbing Jim’s head. “Nnnngg!!!”
His penis jerked into action. Jim sensed the warm tangy fluid squirting onto his tongue; it was only a few drops but the boy’s first ejaculation had happened even sooner than he’d expected. Very carefully, Darren eased himself out, his penis so sensitive he couldn’t bear to touch it. He sank back on his haunches, still breathing heavily, his eyes glazed.
“I’ve cum!” he said finally. “I spunked in your mouth!”
“Mmmm!” Jim acknowledged, smiling and licking his lips. “Delicious! I’ll have more of that any time!”
Darren flopped down next to Jim.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” he said, his eyes sparkling again. “This is really special, so much better than doing it at school.”
Moments later they resumed their kissing, but this time it was gentler, more sensuous. Darren had only produced a small amount of semen; he’d soon be ready for more action. Even so, Jim wasn’t going to rush things. He wanted Darren to be all but begging for it before they moved to the final act. Very carefully, he massaged the lad’s back, stroked his hair, caressed his bottom.
Darren snuggled closer, his erection prodding Jim’s stomach. Jim lubricated his fingers, cocking Darren’s left leg to give better access. Steadily and insistently he pushed his index finger into the boy’s anus. There was no protest. Jim carefully pushed his middle finger in too. There was a momentary tightening then the boy relaxed again. Jim finger fucked the lad, working his fingers deeper and deeper until he struck the boy’s knobbly prostate.
“Ohhh!” Darren gasped, his penis twitching uncontrollably.
“So what d’you want now?” Jim asked.
“I want you to fuck me,” Darren responded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come on sir!”
Jim twisted his fingers around, pushing them apart to loosen Darren’s sphincter. The job completed, he carefully withdrew. He placed a pillow in the middle of the bed.
“On your tummy,” he said quietly.
Darren complied without a murmur, lying face down, the pillow under his hips, his legs spread apart. Jim knelt between them, smearing KY over his penis. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment when Darren would truly become his boy. All his boys had been fucked in this position at least once; it was their act of perfect submission, what made him know that they were really his.
He lowered himself into position, using his left hand to hold the boy’s cheeks apart. He remembered Ryan, the council estate kid he’d met in the toilets, lying exactly where Darren was, about to have his virginity taken. Was it really over a year since he’d done that, he queried; it seemed like only yesterday. He wondered what the boy had been doing since. Getting his arse fucked on a regular basis, he felt sure of that.
He guided his penis onto Darren’s sphincter. He thrust hard, the boy whimpering quietly as he penetrated him. He continued to push, his penis sinking deeper and deeper into Darren’s rectum.
“Oh, sir!” Darren moaned, the man’s invading weapon driving over his sex-gland.
Within seconds, the boy was lying helplessly pinned to the bed, fully impaled on the games master’s penis. Jim began to fuck with long, powerful thrusts, spurred on by Darren’s quiet moans and whimpers. He settled himself lower, nuzzling the boy’s neck, licking his ear, taking in lungfuls of the lad’s magical aroma.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he whispered.
“Yes sir! Yes sir!” Darren confirmed breathlessly.
Jim fucked him harder, deeper, faster, the intensity increasing with every thrust. The boy’s moans became steadily louder, his breathing short and uneven. He shook uncontrollably; a moment later little drops of watery boy-cum squirted onto the pillow. A few more frenzied thrusts and Jim’s orgasm swept over him like a tidal wave. He held Darren’s upper arms, lying perfectly still. His penis reared up, depositing several volleys of semen deep inside the lad’s bottom.
It was over; the task accomplished. Jim lay there, listening to the birds twittering outside the window. He took one final deep breath and carefully withdrew.
“I’m really your boy now, aren’t I sir?” Darren asked, still lying face down on the bed.
“Yes,” Jim assured him. “And nothing will alter that, right until the day you leave.”
He turned Darren over, dropping the soiled pillow onto the floor, their lips meeting in a perfect post-fuck kiss.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
After giving it some thought, Jim decided to appoint Grant Shipway as rugby captain. His reasoning was convoluted. Grant would not be part of the team for the sevens tournament, and so he could decide later who would captain the side on that occasion.
In their early matches, the team performed much as expected. An opening loss to a better than usual St. Georges’ team was followed by a narrow victory at home to Alveley. They suffered a crushing defeat at home to Queen Elizabeth’s, but bounced back with a comfortable win against Whitestone Hall. After four games played, they’d won two and lost two, amassing a points’ difference of minus thirty eight. Given the meagre resources at their disposal, it was as good as he could have hoped for.
Jim’s one disappointment was that he’d had to drop Gavin after the first match. Gavin was quick, agile and completely fearless. His ball-handling was good too, but his indiscipline made him a liability. Through sheer over-exuberance he committed a series of minor infringements, conceding a penalty on each occasion. Jim decided that he’d be in the squad for the sevens tournament where the wide open spaces would suit his style, but until he could learn to control his enthusiasm, he would not be selected for the fifteen a side team.
Things continued much in the same way for the remainder of the term; with half the season completed their record stood at nine matches played, with five wins and four losses, the points’ difference having improved a little to minus twenty six. It was a far cry from the success they’d enjoyed the previous season, but there was much to be proud of. Grant had risen admirably to the challenge of captaincy, the team spirit had been excellent and the work rate outstanding. In Gavin’s absence, the team’s organisation and discipline had been first rate and had played a major part in them winning two matches they might otherwise have lost.
Jim had left the sevens tournament completely to one side; he hadn’t even told the boys about it. He would deal with that directly after the Christmas holiday, he decided. Then he would have to select a squad to take part. The nocturnal activities that were to take place after the tournament would make that a challenge in itself.