Date: Thu, 12 Oct 2017 11:17:00 +0200
From: Lewis Morales <lewsmorals@mail.com>
Subject: Bailey and Me 1

This story is purely fictional and the characters are not based on anyone
in real life. This story contains male-on-male sexual contact. If you are
uncomfortable reading about homosexual content then please do not proceed.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please send feedback to lewsmorals@mail.com


*1*

My quiet evening in front of the television was interrupted by a cry so
loud I thought it would wake the entire house. An almighty howl
reverberated down the hallway causing me to sit bolt-upright. It sounded as
if someone might be injured, so I clambered to my feet and went to
investigate. As I made my way along the corridor I heard it again; the
anguished, guttural wail of somebody in pain. I raced towards the room
where the cries were coming from and without even pausing to think about
the consequences, I turned the handle and pushed. The opening door revealed
a sight that was completely unexpected.

In front of me lay two naked, male bodies deep in the throes of sexual
passion. Kyle was on his back with Bailey's body lying on top of
him. Bailey was thrusting his hips forward, driving his cock deep inside
his lover's passage. The powerful mix of passion and fervour was
intoxicating, and I found myself unable to look away from the spectacle
taking place before my eyes. I knew what I was witnessing, and I knew that
I ought to make a hasty and embarrassed retreat from the room, but for some
reason I felt paralysed and unable to move from that spot. My eyes were
transfixed by the movement of their lithe, naked bodies as they were thrust
together. I was entranced by the carnal tryst taking place, staring down at
the sweaty, masculine physiques as they collided over and over again. Kyle
opened his mouth and a beastly groan echoed across the room. It suddenly
occurred to me that the cries I had heard a few moments ago were not ones
of agonising pain, but moans of intense sexual pleasure. This was the first
time I had seen two guys having sex, and I felt strangely exhilarated by
the heady mix of sights, sounds and smells.

I stood there watching the lustful display for a couple of minutes minutes
before finally coming to my senses and realising I needed to get out of
there before I was caught in the midst of my salacious voyeurism. As I
attempted to move from my position in the doorway, the floorboard beneath
me emitted a loud squeak. I froze, worried that they would look up and
catch me, but mercifully neither boy seemed to notice the noisy floorboard
and their exploits showed no sign of interruption. I thanked my good
fortune as I turned and fled, running back to my room and slamming my door
shut.

It was only when I stopped to catch my breath that I noticed that my penis
had become swollen. I hadn't realised it at the time, but standing in the
doorway watching the spectacle of the two naked, intertwined bodies had
caused me to become physically aroused. Making this situation even more of
a bewildering predicament was the fact that Bailey and Kyle were 17 year
old boys having sex in the dormitory of the prestigious private boarding
school they attended, and I was the teacher in charge of the boarding house
they lived in. So when I fatefully opened that door a few minutes ago, I
had walked in on two of the young male students in my direct care having
sex in the boarding house I was meant to be in charge of. As if that
weren't problematic enough I had now realised that watching the passionate
encounter had given me a throbbing erection. As I looked down at my
burgeoning tumescence I began to panic.

There are those people who seem to thrive on stress and chaos, and then
there are those who are useless in a crisis. I belong firmly in the latter
group. I have always been the carefree guy who lived simply and avoided
stress. I grew up in a small town and enjoyed an uncomplicated and relaxed
adolescence. While some of my school friends couldn't wait to move to the
big city for high-stress, fast-paced lives, I dreamed of traveling the
world with few possessions and even fewer worries. For a few years that's
exactly what I had done; after finishing high school I traveled all over
the country, living each day as it came and stumbling through life without
a care in the world. My parents had always called me a dreamer, and they
had worried about the way I seemed to want to float through life without
making plans. My father used to chide me, warning me that the dreamer's
life wasn't a proper way to live and telling me how worried he was for my
future.

It was at my parents' insistence that, after years of unrelenting nagging,
I agreed to move home and attend university so that I could gain some kind
of formal qualification. My father had tried to convince me to study a
business degree and get a sensible job as an accountant, but I had no
interest in that. We eventually reached a compromise that saw me train to
become a high school English teacher. My parents were happy knowing that I
had a proper profession that earned me a decent wage, and I was happy
knowing that I had the type of job that meant I could still travel in the
school holiday breaks. It seemed like a happy middle-ground.

My parents were so proud when, after completing my studies, I was offered a
teaching position at the Northcliffe School. This was a prestigious boys'
boarding school in a desirable beachside town in Australia, and my parents
were overjoyed to see me finally growing up and getting a real job. The
school offered me a year-long contract, which I happily accepted thinking
that I would earn a good salary for twelve months, but not get locked into
anything long-term. I reckoned I could save the bulk of my wages for a year
then use this money go traveling through Central and South America when the
contract ended. To help with my savings, I agreed to become a boarding
master at the school. It was a great deal, as it meant that in return for
my work in the boarding house, I had all my meals, cleaning and laundry
taken care of. Plus it included my very own apartment in the boarding house
so I wouldn't need to worry about finding accommodation.

I had really only fallen into the profession to keep my parents happy, but
as luck would have it I soon discovered that I really liked being a
teacher. Even though life in a boys' boarding school was more challenging
and time-consuming than I had expected, it was also very rewarding and a
lot of fun. I was inspired by the youthful exuberance of the boys I
interacted with, and I was intrigued to see the world through their
enthusiastic, but naive, teenage eyes. I enjoyed the raw, raucous energy of
the place and I was astounded by just how quickly it came to feel like
home. Prior to starting at Northcliffe I had never ever seen a boarding
school before, so I hadn't really known what to expect; the idea of living
in a boarding school surrounded by teenage boys had initially seemed
bizarre to me. The students in my house were all completing their final
year of school and I enjoyed getting to know them and hearing about their
hopes and plans for the future. Because they were all seniors it meant that
I was only a few years older than they were, so I was easily able to
establish a great rapport. I felt like a wiser, older brother to the young
men in my care, and I enjoyed a fairly uncomplicated existence with no real
stress or problems.

At least, that had been the case before tonight. Suddenly, everything had
changed. As I stood there leaning against my apartment door still trying to
catch my breath, I was unable to still my racing mind. I was struggling to
get my head around what had just happened as my previously calm and
carefree world came crashing down around me. I had no idea how to process
what I had just witnessed. During my teacher training I had studied how to
deal with all manner of situations from interpreting Shakespeare to
engaging reluctant learners, but there had been nothing to prepare me for
this. Nobody at university made any mention of how you should act when you
become aroused by watching two of your teenage, male students having sex in
the boarding house you are in charge of.

I felt like I wanted to throw-up so I peeled myself away from the door and
ran to the bathroom, collapsing down onto my knees in front of the
toilet. I sat there for a few minutes before I finally regained sufficient
control to drag myself into the shower. I hoped that the running water
might help me to focus and figure a way out of this mess. As I stood under
the spray with my eyes shut, I thought about what I had just seen. I began
experiencing flashbacks to the scene that had played out just minutes
earlier. I recalled their toned physiques glistening with sweat as their
hips and groins collided over and over, their muscles tightening and
flexing as their bodies pounded together. I visualised the sight of Bailey
thrusting forcefully into the boy underneath him, driving his cock deep
inside Kyle's passage. I recalled the sounds of their impassioned moaning
and groaning as Bailey pushed deeper and harder. Without consciously
realising I was doing it, I moved my hand down to my hardening phallus and
began jacking myself while my mind replayed the sights and sounds of their
salacious sexual deed. As my brain recalled their fervent passion, my cock
grew stiffer and my self-gratification intensified. It wasn't long before I
felt a familiar stirring in my balls; moments later I shot a giant wad of
cum all over the shower wall.

As my orgasm faded I was hit by the realisation of what I had just done. I
couldn't believe it; I had just masturbated to mental images of the sexual
tryst between two of the seventeen year old boys I was supposed to be
taking care of. I was supposed to be a teacher, providing guidance and
protection, not some lecherous degenerate.  I suddenly felt an incredible
sense of shame and guilt. It was one thing to get an erection when standing
in the room taking in the erotic spectacle, but quite another to masturbate
as I replayed the scene over and over in my head after the event. In
desperation, I grabbed the soap as I vigorously tried to wash my body to
scrub away the metaphorical filth of my illicit pondering. But I soon
realised that my attempts to cleanse myself were futile. Although I felt
dirty, it was not the kind of dirt that soapy water could fix.

It was all I could do to drag my exhausted body out of the shower and into
my bed. Although I was completely exhausted, my mind continued racing as I
lay there trying to make sense of what had happened this evening. At first
I attributed my reaction to panic - after all, I was the teacher in charge
of the boarding house and I suddenly found myself in this most unexpected
and unforeseen situation. But sheer panic alone didn't explain why I had
become so aroused by the spectacle I'd seen. I attempted to rationalise my
response, figuring that most guys would get aroused when they saw something
sexual or titivating and my response was just a natural physical
instinct. But the more I thought about it, the less that answer explained
why I had just been jacking off in the shower as I replayed the scene over
and over in my head.

Despite feeling overwhelmed with fatigue, my racing mind prevented me from
actually falling asleep. As I lay there in my bed, I found myself thinking
more about Kyle and Bailey. These two young men had just crossed-over from
being students under my supervision, to becoming the subjects of an
unexpected and somewhat bewildering sexual fantasy. I lay in my bed trying
to piece together my history with the two boys, thinking about the
encounters I'd had with them before tonight.

Kyle was one of the first people I had noticed when I started at the
boarding school. He walked up to me and introduced himself on my very first
day, and he immediately struck me as being very confident and sure of
himself. There was no denying that he was the alpha male in the boarding
house, and he took every opportunity to showcase himself, his talents and
his achievements to anyone who would listen. Kyle liked being the centre of
attention and king-pin; he was easily the most popular guy in his year and
everyone noticed him wherever he went. Helping Kyle cement his place at the
top of the social hierarchy was his prodigious sporting talent and
commanding physical presence. He was captain of the rugby team, and his
punishing training regime and year-round gym activities had given him an
incredible physique that was impeccably well-defined for a 17 year
old. Standing just over 6' tall, his 185lb (85kg) body was the perfect
specimen of masculinity in every way. His broad shoulders complemented his
pronounced pectoral muscles, with his defined six-pack abdominals framed by
strong v-lines, a thick, masculine waist, firm buttocks and a pair of burly
thighs. His olive complexion gave him the appearance of a year-round tan,
drawing further attention to his good looks. There was no doubt that he was
a striking young man, and Kyle wasn't afraid to show off his physique to
those around him. Often I would observe Kyle strutting around the boarding
house wearing nothing more than a pair of tight, low-rise, boxer-briefs
that clung to his hips and flattered his muscular physique. He used his
commanding physical appearance as a weapon to reinforce his position,
intentionally displaying his incredible strength to remind others that he
was the top-dog.

Whereas Kyle's confidence and striking looks meant that he stood out from
the crowd, his partner in this evening's exploit was far more quiet and
reserved by comparison. While Kyle seemed to seek out the limelight and
draw attention to himself, Bailey was much more of a wallflower. I had
barely noticed Bailey during my first few days at the school, and when
compared to Kyle I knew little about the quieter boy. He was a very high
achieving student with an outstanding GPA, resulting in him being on the
Dean's List for his academic studies, but he didn't gloat about it. His
real passion was swimming, and he trained more than three hours every
day. His self-discipline and commitment to his training meant that he had
been selected in the national youth team. Yet despite his swimming success,
he wasn't arrogant or conceited about it, he didn't show off in front of
the other students. Bailey never drew attention to himself. While Kyle
liked to walk around the house in just his tight underwear, parading his
developed and brawny physique for all to see, Bailey seemed to hide behind
baggy clothes that gave little indication of the young man underneath. In
fact, before tonight I'd never really given any thought to Bailey's
appearance at all, beyond noticing how his 5' 11", 165lb (75kg) frame
seemed leaner than Kyle's bulky, rugby-player's build.

The more I thought about the duo, the more unlikely a pairing they
seemed. In contrast to the extroverted and self-assured Kyle, Bailey was a
more restrained and introspective young man. While Kyle's brashness and
confidence had struck me on our first encounter, Bailey was much more
reserved. While the bulky rugby player craved attention and being in the
limelight, the quieter swimmer seemed to shun it. Kyle relished his
position at the top of the social hierarchy, while Bailey seemed completely
ambivalent about such things.

As I lay in my bed thinking about Bailey and Kyle, my mind inevitably
wandered back to the encounter I had witnessed earlier this evening. I
began replaying the scene over and over in my mind, and I could feel that
my cock was hard again. Despite the misgivings I might have had about the
compatibility of the pair, there was no doubt that what I had witnessed had
roused some unexpected feelings within me. I was very confused as to why I
was reacting this way. I had never thought about either of them in a sexual
way before tonight; in fact I had never really thought about any guy that
way until just a few minutes ago. It was as if the sight of their
passionate interlude had awakened something in me that I hadn't realised
was there. I couldn't stop wondering what that might mean.

It was several hours before I was eventually able to drift off to sleep,
though Kyle and Bailey never fully left my subconscious. In the early hours
of the following morning I had a wildly erotic dream about the two of them
and I was awoken by an eruption of cum from my cock as I experienced my
first wet-dream since my teenage years. I sat up in my bed, confused and
uncertain as to what to do next.

Before this event I'd always attributed my somewhat lacklustre record of
unsuccessful heterosexual interactions to the fact that I wasn't really a
relationship kind of guy. I was the guy who wanted to live an uncomplicated
life without the strangulating and intense romantic affairs that seemed to
entrap many of my friends. The idea of being tied-down in a relationship
had always been unappealing to me, so my string of unsuccessful liaisons
with women had never really caused me too much consternation. Until now I'd
always presumed that I was straight as an arrow; it wasn't that I took
exception to the idea that I could be gay, because I'd honestly never
really given any thought to the prospect of it before tonight. I'd had gay
friends at University and I was a strong believer in the rights of gay and
lesbian couples. But never, not even for a moment, had I thought that I
might be gay. Maybe there was more to this than I'd first thought. Maybe I
wasn't quite as straight as I'd always presumed. Maybe this was just the
beginning of the storm.