Falconsmere: The Chosen Ones

by Pink Panther

Although this story is fiction, it is based on real events. Names, locations and some other details have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. Some of the incidents described in later chapters are my invention, but throughout I have tried to remain faithful to the way things actually happened, as recounted by some of the boys who were involved. You may not find this a comfortable read. It isn't intended to be.

This story includes instances of underage boys having sex, both with with adult males. And with each other. If this is not what you want to read, please leave this page now.

If, for whatever reason, it's illegal for you to read this type of material, you probably shouldn't. Neither I nor Nifty can be held responsible for any adverse consequences that may result from you reading this story.

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Chapter One

It was early in September 1969. For the staff and pupils at Falconsmere Boys' Preparatory School, it was the start of the new school year. After an early lunch, Headmaster Marcus Johnstone, sporting a flamboyantly striped blazer, spent his afternoon greeting parents and boys.

Only thirty-six, he was very young to have been appointed to the Headship of such a prestigious establishment, with many boys from Falconsmere going on to top English schools, including Eton, Winchester and Harrow. However, after five years' teaching at the school, Marcus had impressed the trustees with his energy, his enthusiasm, and his ability to bring the best out of the boys. Outgoing and charismatic, he radiated confidence. The boys and their parents were in awe of him.

Spotting twelve-year old Matthew Wainwright with his parents, Marcus strode across to them.

"Mr and Mrs Wainwright!" he said, smiling broadly. "Good to see you again!"

"Good to see you, too!" Mr Wainwright responded.

"We want to thank you for arranging for Matthew to attend classes at the Royal Academy," Mrs Wainwright offered. "He loves going there and the classes seem to have made a huge difference to him."

Marcus nodded sagely, knowing that the Wainwrights, like a considerable number of families, had to stretch their finances just to pay the school fees.

"Matthew is an outstanding musician and totally committed," he observed. "We pride ourselves on encouraging excellence, so I'm pleased we've been able to help."

Matthew gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. Being able to meet and work with other young musicians meant everything to him. What bothered him was what he'd been persuaded to do in order for the Headmaster to arrange for him to attend these classes, and continued to do to keep the arrangement going.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At five o'clock, with the parents having departed, Deputy Head Ted Price made his way to the school's assembly hall. Having left one of his colleagues to deal with the younger boys, he was about to allocate dormitories to the school's top three year-groups.

As he entered the hall, thirty ten-year old boys were sitting on the floor, almost all of whom were about to begin their fourth year at the school. Knowing the man's reputation as a fierce disciplinarian, they fell into a nervous silence.

The list Mr Price was holding showed that the boys were divided into five groups, with five or six boys in each. He was about to tell them to which dorm each group had been allocated. But before he did so, he had a decision to make.

He needed to select a boy. The group to which that boy belonged would be given the dorm next to his sleeping-in room. But whom should he pick? Who would best suit his purpose?

He looked the boys over, studying them all carefully. By some margin, Andrew Parsons was the best looking, but he was bright, feisty and a good rugby player. That was not the sort of boy he was looking for.

Moving on, the man's eyes settled on Christopher Bennett. With silky blond hair, blue eyes and long slim legs that extended a quite improbable distance below the hem of his brief grey shorts, the boy was also very nice looking.

The difference was that academically he was very poor. More than that, he was weak and badly coordinated, with the result that in games classes, none of the other boys wanted him on their team. He was the one!

Having made his decision, Mr Price began speaking.

"Okay boys!" he announced brusquely. "I'm now going to tell you which dorm you're in."

He read through the five lists, speaking slowly and clearly.

"Any questions?" he demanded.

Predictably, there weren't any.

"Very good! Now gather your things and settle yourselves into your dorm. And do it quietly!"

Getting to their feet, the thirty boys picked up their belongings and headed towards their sleeping accommodation. Two minutes later, Christopher and his room-mates were settling themselves into the dorm next to Mr Price's sleeping-in room.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After supper, Mr Price strolled back to his room. Settling at his desk, he began to check that he had everything ready for the classes he would teach the following day.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. A moment later, twelve-year old Anthony Lockwood appeared.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" the boy asked.

"Yes! Come in and close the door!"

Mr Price licked his lips. Lockwood was another of the school's misfits. As useless on the games field as he was in class, he didn't have any real friends and found life at boarding school a major struggle.

His only assets, Mr Price considered, were that he was very placid, and though not in the same league as Bennett, his latest mark, he was quite nice-looking. In this environment, boys like Lockwood were low-hanging fruit of which he took full advantage.

With Lockwood facing his desk, Mr Price stood up. Positioning himself behind the boy, he reached around and undid the youngster's shorts. They fell around his ankles, fully exposing his well-proportioned legs, silky smooth and creamy white, just the way the deputy head liked them.

Just like all the other times the man had done this to him, Anthony never said a word. Emboldened by the lad's passivity, Mr Price hooked his fingers into the waistband of the boy's skimpy white briefs before expertly skinning them down his legs.

"Bend over the desk!" Mr Price ordered, taking a tube of K-Y from the top drawer.

Anthony didn't protest because there was no point. With the boys enjoying a recreation period, the nearby dorms were all empty. He could have screamed blue murder; nobody would have heard him.

Squeezing some lubricant onto his fingers, Mr Price cursorily worked it into the twelve-year old's bum-hole. The boy seemed tighter than he remembered, the man noted. `I guess nobody's fucked him during the school holiday,' he postulated. That was certainly what it felt like.

Opening his flies, he took out his thick, 19cm cock. Having smeared it with K‑Y, he moved in close, guiding it onto its target. With one hard thrust, he was in.

Anthony still didn't protest. Having enjoyed seven glorious weeks with no pressure to do anything he didn't want to, he was now back at school, which he detested, and within hours he was back in Mr Price's den, with the man about to fuck his arse, just as he had for the previous two years. But he wasn't going to let it upset him. He'd get through it, just like he got through everything else that the school threw at him.

With his hands around the top of the youngster's legs, Mr Price drew Lockwood onto him until the boy was fully impaled. Then after a moment's pause, he began to fuck, raping the lad remorselessly. He never questioned his actions for a moment. As far as he was concerned, boys like Lockwood deserved to be fucked; it was all they were good for.

Within a couple of minutes, he felt his orgasm starting to build. Tightening his grip on the boy's thighs, he redoubled his efforts. Seconds later, he was there, ejaculating prodigiously, his man-cream spurting over and over into the twelve-year old's bottom.

Finally, he was done. He was elated. Following several weeks without a boy to fuck, he'd needed that! After taking a few seconds to recover his composure, he carefully pulled out, his penis so sensitive he hardly dared to touch it.

In front of him, Anthony was leaking profusely, the man's creamy spunk running down his legs.

"You'd better get yourself cleaned up!" Mr Price said brusquely, marching his victim into the bathroom.

Eventually, the boy reappeared. Fully dressed, he looked pretty much back to normal. There were no obvious signs of anything being amiss.

"We'll begin our tuition sessions on Wednesday evening at half past eight," the deputy head said coldly. "Don't forget, because I certainly won't."

Anthony shrugged resignedly. It was only what he'd expected.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At around the same time, Marcus went back to his room, located on the other side of the building. On entering, he was pleased to find that not only was twelve-year old Peter Fox waiting for him, the boy was actually in the headmaster's bed.

"I see you've made yourself at home!" Marcus quipped, locking the door behind him.

"Yes, sir!" Peter responded, smiling warmly.

An outstanding student with an exceptional talent for mathematics, Peter was aiming to win a scholarship to either Eton or Winchester. Priding himself on being something of a polymath, Marcus had been mentoring the boy for almost a year. What made their relationship special was that Peter loved sex. Before being drawn into Mr Johnstone's sphere of influence, he'd had experience with a number of older boys, including the one who'd taken his cherry.

Marcus and Peter had connected during their very first tutorial session. Realising what the man was looking for, and knowing the benefits he would derive from the help and support that Mr Johnstone would provide, Peter had accepted his offer without hesitation.

It had worked beautifully, with Peter quickly discovering that Mr Johnstone could push his buttons far more effectively than any of the teen boys he'd been with. He also admired the headmaster's trim but powerful physique, and the man's legs and chest being covered in short, jet-black hair.

As Peter shifted in bed, Marcus noticed the boy's bare shoulders.

"Are you naked under there?" he enquired, beginning to discard his clothes.

"Not quite sir," Peter responded. "I've still got my underpants on."

"Well, I think it's time they came off, don't you?"

Throwing back the covers, Peter swung himself out of bed and stood up. Slim without being scrawny, he was a little taller than average for a boy of his age. With messy blond hair, bright blue eyes and a most engaging smile, he was close to Marcus's idea of boy-perfection.

Now naked, the man stepped forward, running his hand over the front of the youngster's regulation white briefs.

"I see you're hard already!" he whispered.

"I'm always hard for you, sir!" Peter responded.

Kneeling down, Marcus quickly pulled down the twelve-year old's underpants and allowed him to kick them off. Licking his lips, he admired the lad's uncut penis. Around 11cm long and fairly slim, it was still completely hairless, with around half the head exposed beyond the youngster's foreskin, and a pair of firm round balls hanging beneath. `It's definitely bigger than it was before the holiday!' Marcus noted.

"Can you cum yet?" he asked, gently running his fingers along the boy's shaft, savouring how hard and smooth it was.

"Yes, sir! Not very much, but I do cum!"

"Wonderful!"

Bending forwards, Marcus took the swollen object into his mouth. He sucked it lovingly, working his tongue all over it, paying particular attention to the small, shiny head. Basking in the erotic sensations, Peter appreciatively ran his fingers through his mentor's thick, dark hair, reflecting that none of the teens he'd had sex with could turn him on the way that his headmaster did.

After a couple of minutes, Marcus eased himself away. As he stood up, Peter knelt down. A moment later his lips closed over the man's medium-thick 16cm erection. Showing all his experience, he gradually sucked his way down until he was taking it right down his throat.

Marcus was in ecstasy, transported to an erotic fantasy world where their connection was the only thing that mattered. Instinctively, he began stroking Peter's hair, just as the boy had done with his, amazed for the umpteenth time by what a fantastic cocksucker his protégé was. Finally, he felt the beginnings of an orgasm.

"You can stop now," he said gently.

Very slowly, Peter released him. They got onto the bed. Snuggling up, their lips met in a delicious kiss. After a minute or so, Peter eased himself away.

"You are going to fuck me, aren't you sir?" he asked, grinning.

"Of course!" Marcus confirmed. "That's what you want, isn't it Peter?"

"Oh yes, sir!"

With Peter down on all-fours, Marcus knelt behind him. Burying his face in the boy's crack, his tongue homed in on Peter's anus, pushing insistently. Finally, with his tongue beginning to ache, he pulled away.

Taking a tube of K-Y from the bedside cabinet, he began to work some into the youngster's bum-hole. He noted that it felt tighter and drier than usual, a clear indication that the boy hadn't been penetrated for several weeks.

Within a short time, their preparations were completed. Spreading a towel over the bed, Peter rolled onto his back, the towel beneath him. Lifting up his legs, he held his knees close to his shoulders.

Marcus usually fucked boys from behind, but as this was the position in which Peter was most responsive, he was quite happy to go along with it.

Shuffling in close, he guided his glistening cock onto the youngster's boy-hole and pushed hard. In response, Peter relaxed and pushed out, and after some brief resistance, his anal ring opened up, allowing Mr Johnstone to enter him. For the next few seconds, he watched intently as the headmaster's penis slowly disappeared up his bum.

Once he had taken the man's whole length, Peter slowly lowered his back onto the mattress, his legs spread wide apart. To keep his penis fully inside, Marcus allowed his upper body to push down between Peter's legs. Eventually, he was stretched out over the top of the boy, supporting himself on his hands.

Because of the difference in height, they couldn't kiss, but seeing Peter's hands invitingly palms-up on either side of his head, Marcus wrapped his hands around the twelve-year old's wrists, holding them firmly.

"Are you ready?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes, sir!" Peter confirmed.

A moment later, Marcus began to fuck.

"Oooh, sir!" Peter gasped, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. "That feels so good!"

On it went, Marcus pounding into the boy with long, rhythmic thrusts. There was no question of edging it; they were both far too horny for that. They needed to cum!

Suddenly, Peter began to shudder, his muscles wracked by crazy spasms. A moment later, Marcus was aware of a little jet of sticky fluid wetting his stomach. He was elated. Peter had cum while being fucked!

"Oh, you sexy boy!" he gasped. "Now I'm going to fill your bottom!"

As he plunged right in, his penis jerked violently. As befitted a man still in his prime, his creamy spunk spurted deep into Peter's boy-hole, and continued to do so for what felt like ages.

But finally, it was over, and a few seconds later, Marcus gently withdrew. Almost immediately, Peter began to leak, Mr Johnstone's semen trickling out of his anus and running down onto the strategically-placed towel.

"I think you enjoyed that!" Marcus suggested, giving the boy a satisfied grin.

"Oh, yes sir!" Peter responded, smiling beatifically. "That was the best ever!"