Date: Mon, 3 Jan 2011 13:44:56 -0800 From: Zack McNaught Subject: Hillview - chapter 2 Disclaimer: Oh, whatever. If you're going to read it, you're going to read it. A man and a ten year old boy play the sort of games men and boys have been playing for millenia, and telling you not to read this won't stop it happening. Just enjoy the thing, and please email me if you liked it: zackmcnaught@hotmail.com Cheers, Zack Chapter 2 – Roberts He motioned me closer in the gloom of the darkened classroom, his fingers a pale ghostly grey in the light of the television screen. His contemporaries, ranged ahead of us in rows, watched or snoozed as another boring video failed to educate them in any way. I was tired, though – it was the end of term and there was little point in trying to teach anything to a bunch of bored young boys whose thoughts were turned wholly towards Christmas at home with their parents. School work didn't get a look in for those two weeks leading up to the holidays. He wanted to whisper into my ear, so I moved closer, lowering my head so that he could do so. "It's hard now, sir," he said. "You said you wanted me to prove it." "Yes, Harrison, I did, but you can't prove it, not here in the classroom." I desperately wanted him to come up to my rooms so we could have some fun there, but he had to come up with the idea himself. It had to be his initiative, not mine. "I can prove it, look," he said, pushing his hips out. No doubt about it, even in the dim light a bulge was quite apparent in just the right area. I wasn't prepared to concede the victory quite so easily, however, and certainly not before having seen visual proof. "That could be anything, Harrison. That's no proof at all." "But it's not, sir!" he whispered back urgently. His hands went to his crotch and he fumbled urgently with the zipper. A few seconds later the uncut tip of his short, thin dick was poking out of both his y-fronts and his grey uniform trousers. I desperately looked around the room, hoping for my life that no-one could see, but his classmates were all still absorbed, eyes forwards, ignoring us. I smiled at him. "That could just be sitting there the right way," I whispered. "That doesn't prove anything." With an exasperated sigh, which sounded all too loud for my ears, he grabbed my hand and dragged it over to his lap. The tip of his dick pressed into the palm of my hand – it was like a spike of steel. --- Roberts was waiting behind for me at the end of class. He hung around until there was no-one but he and I in the room, and then approached my desk as I struggled to hide the damp spot rapidly spreading in my lap. "Sir," he whined when he was quite sure we were alone, "how come you never play with mine like you do with Harrison's?" Shit, I was rumbled. Still, he'd waited for us to be alone before asking, so perhaps all was not lost. In the absence of an easier way out, I went for broke. "Well, I didn't think you could get hard like he can," I said. A look of triumph suffused his features. "I can, sir, look!" he said, and with that one hand tugged down his fly while the other reached inside to hunt for his willy. "Whoah, not here, Roberts! Not with the lights on and the curtains open!" "Well, can I come to your rooms then, sir?" Bingo. --- His trousers were down around his ankles before I had even closed the door behind us, and with them and his underpants impeding progress he shuffled over to the sofa in the part of my rooms I used for extra tuition. The degree of comfort with which he did so told me everything I needed to know about this boy's level of experience, and I knew I was in for a good time. He sat back on the sofa, little dick already hard in one hand, shirt and tie held up and out of the way with the other. I didn't bother with all the usual pleasantries – there didn't seem much point in beating around the bush, especially as he seemed so ready for it. I knelt down between his spread legs and took the pink little rod of flesh into my hand. "See, sir, I can get it hard, too!" he said, with a dirty little grin. "Indeed you can, Roberts," I replied as I revelled in the feel of it. It was impressive for his age – not many ten year olds have four inches – and had less of the steel hardness than Harrison's. It was more like the dick of a boy entering puberty and beginning to swell. Skinning it back revealed a plump, deep purple helmet which shone with tightness, and the slightest hint of wetness at the entrance to the little slit which divided it. I was astonished – if this boy could lubricate, he may even be able to shoot. Determined to find out, I set my lips and tongue to work on him. The speed at which he reached his shuddering orgasm was proof enough that he was experienced, if nothing else had been, but it was, to my disappointment, dry. I don't usually expect the boys to return my sexual favours, but as I stood up in front of him, Roberts' hand went to my fly, tugging down the zip. His other hand reached into my boxers and fished out my achingly hard dick, and immediately he leaned forward to take it into his mouth. He may only have been able to handle a couple of inches, but that he had me in his mouth at all was mind blowing, and no more than a minute of his sucking was sufficient to see his mouth filled with a surging ejaculation. He smiled proudly up at me and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt. "Did I do it right, sir?" Oh God, yes.