GRITTY CITY GANG BANG

BY

HUGH COX

 


 

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

 

All the usual warnings and conditions apply; you all know what they are so there's no point in repeating them here.

The main character and narrator of this story is a schoolteacher and there are references in it to various different educational establishments. For those readers unfamiliar with the English education system, here is a brief description of those types of school.

A public school in England is not a state school as it is in most other countries; it is actually a selective, fee-paying establishment and the term `public' refers to the fact that it is open to anyone, irrespective of religious background or location, subject to its admissions policy and of course its fees. Most public schools take students between the ages of thirteen and eighteen although some will admit children as young as eleven.

A preparatory or `prep' school is, as the name suggests, an establishment designed to prepare students for public school and to pass their admissions criteria. Prep schools generally take students between the ages of eight and thirteen.

A grammar school was formerly a selective, state funded establishment which gave brighter children, whose parents couldn't afford to pay for a private school, an academic education and the chance to go on to university. They were abolished for political reasons, ostensibly to make the system fairer for kids but in reality to raise the salaries of those teachers who didn't teach in grammar schools to the same levels as those who did.

Comprehensive schools are non-selective, state funded educational establishments which now cater to the vast majority of English children between the ages of eleven and sixteen and up to eighteen if they have a sixth form. The quality of these schools varies dramatically; with the best of them generally being found in more affluent areas while those in poorer, particularly inner city, areas tend to be amongst the worst.

I hope you enjoy the story, Hugh.

 

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I sat at my desk and watched the usual suspects shuffling in for Friday afternoon detention; seven of them today, five boys and two girls. I neither knew nor cared what they were here for but it was my turn to supervise their punishment, not my favourite task but one which had to be done. By law a school has to inform parents in writing that their child is going to have detention, giving at least twenty four hours' notice. As a result, at this school the punishment always takes place on a Friday afternoon and includes those `sentenced' on the preceding four days and the previous Friday. The kids are supposed to do homework during this period but those students who receive detention tend not to be the type who pay too much attention to the rules; therefore playing with their phones is the usual way for them to pass the time. Trying to force them to do otherwise is pointless and the sensible teacher simply ignores what they're up to and just makes sure that they behave reasonably and don't start fighting with one another.

The two girls sat together as did two of the boys, while the other three sat separately; the ubiquitous phones appeared, silence fell and, thankfully, it didn't seem as if I'd be required to referee any violent exchanges. Naturally the girls didn't interest me, you neither I suspect, so I ignored them and checked out the boys. The youngest were the two sitting together, a mischievous rather than nasty pair of twelve year old jokers who, although not related, were generally referred to as `the chuckle brothers'; they were no doubt here after yet another of their `hilarious' pranks. They were each just under five feet and a hundred pounds and both had blue eyes; Billy Edwards was a very attractive blond whereas Neil Samuels was a cute, brown haired kid with freckles.

The next youngest, Tommy Williams, was thirteen and the latest in a long line of troublemakers from the same large, extended family. He was around 5'2" and was on the chubby side, maybe 125 pounds with close cropped brown hair and hazel eyes; he might've been cute if it weren't for the permanent sneer he seemed to sport. He was a perfectly balanced boy, with a chip on each shoulder and, like the other members of his clan, took offence at the slightest provocation which meant that he was forever getting into fights and ending up in detention on Friday afternoons.

The fourth boy was fifteen year old Alan Chambers, a fairly good looking lad who was around 5'7" and probably weighed about the same as the Williams boy but was considerably slimmer; he had brown eyes and dark hair which was short at the sides but longer on top. He was a smart kid who was clever enough to get good grades and maybe go on to higher education but was at the wrong school for that. The teachers here spend all their time struggling to maintain some kind of control and give the majority of the kids a basic education; they don't have the time and many don't have the inclination, to help the smarter ones to achieve their potential and the likes of Alan Chambers become bored and lose interest. In the past he'd have gone to grammar school and then university, possibly going on to have a well-paid career in one of the professions but that option no longer existed and instead he was doomed to his fate in an inner city comprehensive. I'd be prepared to put money on him being here for something he said rather than something he did; probably a smart but sarcastic remark that scored a direct hit on the ego of one of my colleagues.

The eldest boy was seventeen year old sixth former Steve Hobbes, a tall (over six feet), green eyed redhead who was generally easy going but who, like many with his colouring, had a quick temper. He was one of those guys who had a very strong sense of right and wrong and had a habit of jumping in if he thought someone else was the subject of an injustice. On many an occasion a teacher would be dealing with what seemed like a minor matter with a kid, only to have Steve butt in and then lose his rag, turning the situation into a much more serious one and landing the boy in trouble.

I had some work to mark but, since I had all weekend to do it, I found it difficult to concentrate and instead started to think about how I came to be here at all. I had a comfortable, middle class childhood; my parents were both doctors and were able to afford to educate their only child privately. At eight I went to prep school where I was soon seduced and fucked by one of the older boys, a thirteen year old and found that I loved it. He soon moved on so I was forced to find another lover and this continued until I reached puberty at twelve. Once I'd matured, I switched to younger lads and became a top for a year or so until I moved to a minor public school.

At my new school I went back to being a bottom but only with boys up to about sixteen; anyone older than that didn't appeal to me and, for some reason that I didn't understand, I wasn't keen on topping with the guys there. Even when I was in sixth form I wanted to be fucked by younger boys but it became more difficult to find partners as those boys tended to be bottoms or else preferred to fuck lads their own age or younger. When I left for university the situation deteriorated even more and I spent three, miserable years of celibacy trying to come to terms with my sexuality.

Most kids start to become interested in sex when they reach puberty although many experiment before that. Generally they are attracted to other kids around their own age and this age of attraction changes as they get older until they are attracted to adults. I came to terms with being gay in my early teens at public school but, by the time I was at university, I had to reappraise that viewpoint and accept the bitter truth that I didn't actually like men, I was attracted to boys. That meant that, through no fault of my own, I was the worst thing in the world, a paedophile. I firmly believe that our sexuality is innate but how it manifests itself is influenced by our early life; in my case I was born with my attraction to boys but my experiences at school mean that I want to fuck boys from eight up to puberty but be fucked by them from puberty up to about sixteen. Towards the end of my time at university I finally accepted my sexuality, although I now prefer to be called a pederast, a much less pejorative term.

As a child, I was aware that some of my teachers liked boys and one even propositioned me but I had no interest in men and turned him down. One of the boys in my year did have a relationship with the man though and it remained a secret from most people; the guy continuing to teach at the school until retirement without anyone in authority seeming to be aware of his proclivities. I therefore decided that the best way to meet boys was to become a schoolteacher and chose to teach in a prep school as most of the boys there would be pre-pubescent and I would be the top in any relationship. If I'd taught in a school with post-pubescent boys my preference would've been to bottom and I didn't think that allowing my students to fuck me would do anything for classroom discipline.

After university I went to teacher training college and then took up a position as a teacher at a boarding prep school for boys in North Yorkshire. While I wanted to have sex with boys, I had no intention of abusing them; I only wished to be involved with those who were willing and actually enjoyed the experience. I was also terrified of propositioning the wrong boy and having him tell someone else, so I came up with a method of identifying suitable candidates. I knew from my own experience that older boys hit on the younger ones and, although most of these relationships are experimental and don't lead anywhere, some of them develop into genuine love affairs and the younger boy can be left bereft when his older lover leaves the school. If you know what to look for, it's quite easy to spot these relationships, as the boys in question tend not have the ability to hide their feelings, so I would simply wait for the elder boy in such a relationship to leave the school and then call the younger one to my study for sympathy and counselling. In a situation like that, hugs and caresses could be given without much danger of being reported for inappropriate touching and those boys who obviously enjoyed intimate contact with a man could then be seduced.

For the next fifteen years I had numerous young lovers, the youngest being eight and the eldest a late developing thirteen. My career advanced as well and I became a form master which gave me more reason to have boys in my study and therefore made their seduction that much easier. I couldn't have been happier and then, without warning, disaster struck. I was called in to see the headmaster and he informed me that the chairman of the school governors had told him that he'd heard a rumour that I had sexually abused one of the boys, a cute nine year old called James Hopkins. It happened to be true although, since the boy both consented to and enjoyed the experience, I didn't consider it to be abuse; nevertheless, I attempted to brazen it out.

"What do you mean a rumour?" I asked him. "You can't take unsubstantiated speculation like that seriously. Why don't you ask the boy, I'm sure he'll deny that there's any truth in it."

"The chairman's son and young Hopkins are best friends," he replied sternly, "so I assume that he is the source and that he heard it directly from the boy in question. I have already spoken to the lad and you're right, he did deny it but I've been around boys long enough to know when they're lying and frankly Pinocchio could've done a better job of convincing me that there was nothing going on. You can consider yourself extremely fortunate that he did deny it, or else you'd be talking to the police right now, so you've got a choice; resign with immediate effect or I will pass this information on to the authorities. I don't want to do that; it won't do the school's reputation any good and I'm sure you'd rather be looking for another job than looking at several years in prison."

When he put it like that, I realised that I had no choice; faced with police questioning the boy would eventually tell the truth and I'd be facing a lengthy stretch and the end of my career. As it turned out I began to think that the end of my career had come anyway; I applied for numerous jobs at prep schools throughout the North of England but never even got an interview. Whether the reason for me leaving my job was revealed or simply inferred, it was obvious that I wasn't being given a positive reference and so I was forced to try my luck elsewhere and eventually found myself teaching English at a shitty comprehensive in a less than salubrious area in the east end of Leeds. I had no study and there was no store cupboard in the classroom, which had large interior windows allowing anyone passing in the corridor to look inside; the chances of me seducing any of the boys here was close to zero. I might've been back in work but my pederastic career seemed to have come to a shuddering halt.

I came out of my reverie and looked around the classroom; the two girls were looking at the same phone and giggling over whatever it was that they were viewing while the boys were all quietly engrossed in their own devices. I decided that `if you can't beat them, join them', was the most appropriate way forward, pulled out my own phone and accessed one of my email accounts. Since leaving my previous job eighteen months before, I was no longer having actual sex with boys so I'd started writing stories on the subject for the Nifty site; they were all about male teachers and their students, the first few being based on my own experiences and involving men fucking young boys. The last one, however, had been a little different; in it a teacher in his late thirties, based on me obviously, had been fucked by a fourteen year old boy, based on a former lover from my schooldays. The email account I now opened was the one I used to send my stories to Nifty and to correspond with readers; for obvious reasons I didn't use my real name for this account but rather my nom de plume.

There was one unread message in the in-box, so I opened it to find a complimentary and extremely enthusiastic missive from a nineteen year old reader who explained that he was a top who liked older men and that the story reminded him of a teacher at his old school, although nothing had actually taken place between them, unfortunately. He then asked if the character was based on me and, if so, was the description accurate and did I really like to be fucked by younger guys?

I replied that, yes the character was semi-autobiographical, his description was based on my own and that I did indeed like to bottom for teenage boys. He must've been online at the time, because I received another email from him almost immediately, asking where I lived and suggesting that we meet for sex. I declined to give him that information and pointed out that I preferred boys who were younger than he was and therefore sex with him was out of the question.

Another reply came straight through asking me to describe my perfect boy. That was a difficult question to answer as I didn't think such a creature existed; every boy was attractive to some degree but each was also flawed as well; all humans are. In addition, my personal tastes changed constantly depending on which boy happened to be in my life at that moment and at this particular moment there was no boy in it at all. I looked at the five sitting in front of me and dismissed Tommy, too arrogant and Steve, too old. The chuckle brothers were both extremely fuckable but I reckoned the reader meant what sort of boy did I want to fuck me so that left Alan, definitely the most attractive of the three elder boys, so I looked at him carefully, typed an accurate description into the email and sent it off.

I now found myself appraising the lad in even greater detail, realising as I did so that he was far better looking than I'd previously thought; although he'd lost the `little boy' look that I liked in the kids I fucked, he hadn't yet developed into a man, which meant he was exactly how I liked boys who fucked me to look. I suddenly became aware that I was staring at him and that he was looking back at me with a knowing smile on his face; I felt heat in my cheeks as I blushed and he must've noticed because the smile turned into a grin and I was forced to look away. He was, as I said before, a very bright kid and I had no doubt that he'd sussed me out; the burning question now was how would he react to his new found knowledge?

I didn't have time to consider this for too long because another message arrived from the reader. He suggested that I write a story, in which the boy I'd just described raped a teacher based on the guy from my previous story. I replied that I loved the idea and that I often fantasised about being taken forcibly by a teen boy but that I couldn't envisage this boy successfully raping a grown man without the use of a weapon and the threat of extreme violence, which wouldn't make for the sort of erotic story I liked to write.

When I looked up, I was relieved to see that Alan was engrossed in his phone again, while the others were beginning to get restless as the end of the detention period approached. A few minutes later, to my relief as much as theirs, the purgatory was over and they all stood up and filed out; the two girls chattering together as were the youngest boys; two of the boys left silently, while Alan gave me a cheery grin and said, "See ya," as he went. I wasn't sure what to make of that and worried that he might start rumours at school that I was a pervert. I checked my email one last time before I left and found a final message from the reader, suggesting that the boy and a few of his friends could overpower and gang rape the teacher. I replied that I'd think about his suggestion and, if I could come up with a workable idea, I'd start writing it that weekend.

After dinner that night, I sat down with a glass of wine and began to consider how to turn the reader's gang rape idea into a story. I decided that a single chapter, short-but-sweet tale with a fairly limited plot would work best but, limited plot or not, I had to come up with a scenario that was reasonably believable and that proved to be something of a problem, as I couldn't see how to create a situation whereby a group of teenagers would be able to gang rape their teacher and get away with it. I decided to leave that for now and concentrate on writing the sex scene; stories don't have to be written in chronological order, so I could work in the plot around the main action later.

As I began, however, I came across two minor problems; the first being that Alan Chambers, the inspiration for the main boy character, wasn't someone that I could picture as a rapist. This issue was easily solved by only using his physical description and giving him a different personality; it didn't take much thought to realise that adding some of Tommy Williams' traits to the character would give him the edge I required. The second problem was a lack of personal experience; in all my previous stories I had been able to use actual incidents from my past as inspiration but I had never been involved in either rape or group sex so, for this one, everything had to come from my imagination.

I sat down with my laptop and began writing but it was slow going; on previous occasions the words just flowed from brain to keyboard, even if I had to do some serious editing later but this time I found that I was having to stop and think and I was continually going back to rewrite paragraphs. Three hours of typing saw fewer than a thousand words on the screen and I was mentally fatigued; I'm not a professional author, writing is a hobby and is meant to be fun but I wasn't enjoying this much and wondered if I'd be as well scrapping the idea and writing something else.

The email icon at the bottom of the screen indicated that I had a message and, when I checked it, I found that my reader wanted to know whether or not I had decided to write the gang rape story. I explained that I'd started but had issues with the plot, that lack of personal experience was hindering my progress and that I was giving serious thought to chucking it in. He must've been online again, because a reply came almost immediately encouraging me to stick at it, so I saved what little I'd written, put the computer away and went to bed.

 

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The next morning I followed my usual Saturday morning routine of a lie-in, breakfast and then a trip to the supermarket for the weekly grocery shop. On my return home I decided to leave the story for a while and concentrate on marking my students' work; once that chore was out of the way I could devote some time to sorting out my creative writing problems. Two hours of correcting atrocious spelling and grammar was enough for one morning and I was glad to put my work to one side and watch the football (soccer) while I ate lunch. Another two hours in the afternoon saw the tedious task completed and I relaxed and had a couple of beers while I watched the afternoon results show and then the early evening game.

Dinner coincided with the second half and then I was free to get back to my struggles with the story. By nine thirty the contents of my wine bottle had fallen by two thirds, while my total word count had only risen to fifteen hundred; for once my usual brain lubricant was failing to have the desired effect. I put the laptop aside, stretched to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders and heard a commotion outside my house. I don't live in the same part of the city as the school, which avoids any awkwardness with neighbours whose kids might be my students and, although my detached two bedroom house is in a more upmarket area, it's not exactly the stockbroker belt and Saturday night disturbances aren't particularly unusual. I waited for whoever was making the racket to move on but the din continued and if anything appeared to get closer and louder. Looking out through the spy-hole in the front door I saw what appeared to be a boy of about thirteen lying on my front path, curled up in a foetal position while two older kids kicked him. I couldn't make out their features as they each had raised hoods but from their size I estimated them to be about fifteen and, from the little I could see of them, reckoned that one was white and the other black.

I should've called the police and, if they'd been adults, I would've done but, as a teacher, I'm used to dealing with unruly teenagers so I opened the door, stepped outside and confronted them. I realised my mistake immediately as two other kids, about fourteen or fifteen, appeared from where they'd been hidden either side of the door and grabbed me. Even with two against one, at five feet eleven and a hundred and eighty pounds, I probably had enough of a size advantage to fight them off and get safely back inside but the two who were `attacking' the youngest kid stopped their assault and came to the aid of my assailants and the `victim' jumped to his feet and joined in as well. Five against one was far too many and I found myself bundled through my front door, into the living room and onto the floor. Sticky tape was placed over my mouth and eyes, gagging and blindfolding me, then I was manhandled over to an armchair and forced to kneel on it facing backwards. I felt rope of some kind being tied around my ankles and then realised that they were being secured to the front feet of the chair; I was then pushed forward until my chest was against the top of the chair's back, my arms were forced over it and then my wrists were tied and secured to the rear feet.

A pair of hands reached around my waist, undid my trousers and then pulled them and my underpants down, exposing my arse. Someone else grabbed a handful of my hair, raised my head and said, "We're going to have our fun with you now, at both ends. That means taking the gag off; if you yell it'll go back on and we'll make things worse for you, understand?"

I was unable to speak so I simply nodded and the tape covering my mouth was ripped off. Almost immediately my head was raised by the hair again and a hard, teen cock was wiped around my lips, which I kept stubbornly closed. An unspoken signal must've passed between the owner of the cock and one of his accomplices, because my right arse cheek received a sharp slap causing me to gasp; that of course entailed me opening my mouth and, as I did so, my assailant shoved his cock between my parted lips. It was very tempting to use my teeth but discretion won out over valour and I accepted the inevitable; these kids were going to rape me orally and anally, trying to fight it was pointless and likely to lead to more pain than simply letting them have their way.

I estimated that the cock in my mouth was between four and five inches long and guessed that it belonged to one of the pair who'd been hiding when I'd gone out to break up what I thought was a fight. While its owner was moving it in and out and exhorting me to suck it, I could feel saliva being dribbled onto my arse and a pair of small, wet fingers began to probe my anus. A few moments later a short, slender cock shoved its way past my sphincter and into my rectum; this I assumed was the smallest boy, the one who'd played the victim in the little charade they'd staged to entice me outside. This lad had zero finesse and immediately began to rabbit fuck me; he wasn't making much impression on my prostate but I was getting pleasant feelings from my anus so I decided to make the most of the situation and started to suck the cock in my mouth properly, while squeezing the muscles in my arse.

I got an immediate reaction at both ends; the boy in my mouth began to say, "Fuck yeah," over and over, while the lad in my arse squealed, gave one final thrust and squirted his small emission into my rectum. After a short pause they both pulled out and I heard them shuffling around; another cock, similar in size to the first, pressed against my lips, which I opened to allow it in. At the same time a wet, hard cock, larger than its predecessor, forced its way into my arse and I guessed that this was the one that I'd previously been sucking. Their plan now became clear; apart from the youngest, who'd fucked me first, each would start in my mouth and then move to my arse after the one before came and they were going in order of size, smallest to largest. For that, at least, I was grateful as it gave me the opportunity to accustom myself to their increasing stature and each would provide natural lube for the next; although I was disappointed that I wouldn't be getting any sweet tasting boy juice in my mouth.

I have to admit, the last thought shocked me a little as it intimated that I might actually be capable of enjoying what was happening and then it occurred to me that I could perhaps disrupt their plan and gain a nice mouthful at the same time. I relaxed my arse as much as possible and began to properly fellate the cock in my mouth; in this way I hoped to make the boy in mouth come before the one doing the fucking. Unfortunately he pulled out saying, "I'm getting close, you take over," and another cock, almost six inches this time, pushed past my lips and into my throat. Since that idea had come to nothing, I went back to using my rectal muscles on the lad behind; my thinking being, the sooner they all cum, the sooner they'll fuck off.

The boys in front swapped back, obviously the first had calmed down a bit but a few moments later the one in my arse shot his load and it was all change again. I had the distinct impression that the boy whose nearly six inch cock was now back in my mouth had more experience than the others, as he was doing a pretty good job of face fucking me; taking it nice and slow and avoiding getting too close to a climax. The one behind, whom I'd already brought close once, was more enthusiastic; hammering away at my rear end until he called out, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Oh fuck, yes!" gave one final thrust and slumped across my back.

The boy that I thought was probably experienced now took over fucking duties and, from the way he made small, experimental thrusts, I suspected that he was attempting to stimulate my prostate; that was rather thoughtful of him and not what you'd expect from a rapist at all. I didn't have the chance to think about the implications of this for long, as a much larger cock, perhaps seven or even eight inches, now forced its way into my mouth; I remembered that one of the two largest boys was probably black and assumed that this was him. `Christ,' I thought, `if he's this size at fifteen, what'll it be like when he's fully grown.' I'd never sucked anything this big before and, to begin with, it took all my effort and concentration to avoid gagging. After several minutes I became more accustomed to it and things became a little easier, which allowed me to take heed of what was going on behind. The boy who was now fucking me had succeeded in finding my prostate and, in addition, he'd reached around, grabbed my cock and had brought me to full mast.

There was no doubt about it now, I was definitely enjoying the experience; I had eight inches of (probably) black meat in my throat while a surprisingly thoughtful rapist was giving me an amazing, combined fuck and hand job. I was actually in danger of having an orgasm but the boy must've recognised that because he released my cock and concentrated on fucking me, climaxing himself a few moments later.

The monster departed from my mouth, giving my throat some relief; although I realised that any relief would be short lived, as my arse was going to have to accommodate the eight inches very soon. A slim, four inches replaced it; obviously the youngest boy was finally having his turn at getting sucked. He smelled and tasted of my arse but I found that to be a turn-on and actually put plenty of effort into giving my erstwhile rapist a good time. There appeared to be something of a delay at the rear and I soon discovered why; one of the boys sat on the floor between my legs, pulled my still hard cock down and began to suck it just as the biggest lad thrust his meat into my hole. He didn't have the skill of the previous fucker but made up for it with sheer size and enthusiasm; his glans rubbed over my prostate with each stroke and, with my cock also receiving some very pleasant attention, I knew that I was going to climax before too long.

The kid in front only had one speed it seemed; he face fucked me with the same fast pace he'd used on my arse, his little balls bouncing on my chin and, even though he'd cum once already, it only took a couple of minutes before he was shooting a small, sweet load into my mouth. I'd been hoping for just that for some time and, together with the two sources of stimulation lower down, it pushed me over the edge and I came, pumping several thick ropes of man cream into the mouth of the boy below. My orgasm caused my muscles to spasm and I felt my sphincter clamp down on the large cock in my arse; that must've been enough to bring its owner to climax too, as he gave one more thrust and emptied his copious balls into my already cum filled rectum.

Small and large cocks were removed from each of my orifices and the third boy scrambled out from between my legs; I suddenly felt empty and, to my horror, realised that I was actually disappointed that it was all over. I could hear them rearranging their clothing and heading for the front door, laughing and chattering together; the door opened and closed and silence descended on the house. `Shit!' I thought, `they've left me tied up, now what do I do?' Then I heard someone moving towards me and realised that they hadn't all gone.

I was aware of him in front of me, his face came close and I could smell cum on his breath, clearly this was the boy who'd sucked me at the end. Then, to my utter amazement, he kissed me; not a quick peck either but a full, deep passionate one, with his tongue pushing past my lips to duel with mine. He broke the kiss, removed the tape from my eyes and I saw my assailant clearly for the first time. "Are you OK, Mr Adams?" Alan Chambers asked in a concerned, slightly trembling voice.

"For fuck sake Alan, untie me!" I exclaimed, not exactly sure whether I was OK or not. He did as I demanded with alacrity and I pulled my underpants and trousers back up before sitting down and rubbing my chafed wrists and ankles. "I think I'm OK," I eventually said, "but you'd better explain what the hell that was all about."

"You said that being raped by a boy was one of your fantasies and that your lack of experience of gang rape was causing problems with the story, so I organised this to help you with that and hopefully give us all a bit of fun."

"The story? Do you mean that you're the reader who asked for the gang rape story? I thought he was nineteen."

"I might've exaggerated my age slightly," he replied with a grin, "but I didn't think you'd be prepared to exchange emails about sex stuff with a fifteen year old."

"Never mind that, after I got over the initial shock I did actually enjoy what you guys did and I've certainly got some first-hand experience to write about now but not all of your mates are going to keep quiet about it; it'll be all over the school on Monday."

"No it won't. My parents are divorced, I live with my mum and go to school here in Leeds but I spend every other weekend at my dad's place in Wakefield. My four friends are all from there, they don't even know that you're a teacher. They know I like older guys so I told them that we're a couple and that you were up for a gang bang; they're all horny teenagers so they were up for it too."

"OK, we might be able to keep it quiet but how the hell did you suss out that I was the writer of those stories?"

"My aunt Kate, my mum's younger sister, is married to a rich prick called Andrew Hopkins and their son, James, goes to a posh prep school."

"You're James Hopkins' cousin?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, his dad might be a prick but James is OK and we sometimes mess about together. We both prefer men but I'm a top and he's a bottom so we help each other out when there's no men around; which is most of the time," he added ruefully. "Anyway, about a year and a half ago, he was sobbing in my arms over some teacher that he was in love with. He and his former best mate had been daring one another to tell their biggest secret, when he made the mistake of revealing his relationship with the teacher to the little shit. The next thing he knew, he was being questioned about it by the headmaster and, although he denied everything, the teacher disappeared from the school. He thought the guy had gone to prison and blamed himself.

"When our new English teacher turned out to be a guy called Steve Adams, who matched the description of my cousin's lover, I took his picture and sent it to James, who confirmed that you were indeed the same man. He was very relieved that you weren't in prison and glad that you had a new job."

"OK, so you knew that I'm a boy lover but that doesn't explain how you knew I wrote erotic stories."

"As you'd expect, I prefer boy-fucks-man stories but I enjoy most adult youth ones and I liked yours because I think teacher/student ones are pretty hot. One of the stories was virtually identical to your relationship with James and the boy's description was him to a T, right down to that cute mole on his bum. Unless it was an amazing coincidence, the author had to be you or someone who knew you both intimately. Your most recent story had a teacher whose description matched you exactly so, when I discovered that you were on detention duty yesterday, I gave old Pooley, Mr Poole I mean, enough cheek that he gave me detention for the same day. I sent the email and hoped that you'd check it and reply; you did and it was obvious from watching you during the exchange that you were the writer. I especially liked your description of your perfect boy," he grinned at that, "that's when I reckoned there was a chance for us to get together."

"Oh, you think so?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, I've had relationships with younger students, as you know but I've always been the top in those. I prefer to be fucked by teen boys but I'm not sure that bottoming for one of my students is a good idea."

"I promise that I wouldn't take advantage of the situation. No-one at school would suspect a thing."

"We wouldn't be able to do anything at school; you'd have to come here. Would that be OK?"

"Sure, I could cycle over, it's not that far."

"What would we say if someone saw us together?"

He considered that for a few seconds and then replied, "We could say that you're giving me extra tuition."

It was my turn to give the matter some thought. Eventually I said, "OK, it might work but I'll only do it if I can tutor you for real and you start to take your studies seriously. You're a smart boy and if people think I'm tutoring you, I want to see a significant increase in your grades; so no more slacking, knuckle down at school and I'll help you with your studies then we can have some fun as well."

"Alright!" he yelled, leapt onto my lap, sat astride my thighs, threw his arms around my neck and kissed me again.

"One thing I do want to know, I take it you were number four on the rota?" I asked and he nodded in the affirmative. "Then you're obviously no novice when it comes to sex but I can't believe you gained all that experience fucking your cute cousin; so where did you learn?"

"One of mum's boyfriends was bi; he liked fucking women but to be fucked by guys, preferably young ones. He taught me everything I know."

"He was a good teacher."

"Yeah he was; in bed and in the classroom," he replied with another grin.

 

⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣ ⚣

 

Alan spent the night with me, his mum thought he was at a friend's house and we had a lot of fun; but that's not the subject of this story, so you'll just have to use your imagination!

He had to go home in the morning which left me free to carry on with the story. I decided not to bother thinking up a plot but simply wrote an account of the previous night's events plus an autobiographical spiel to explain how they came about; finishing up with just over seven thousand words.

It's now Sunday evening, I've read the story over two or three times and made a few alterations; all that remains is to convert it to HTML and attach it to an email which I'll send to the Nifty Archivist. I hope the readers enjoy it.


 

THE END

 

Hugh Cox 2018

 

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