Date: Tue, 09 Nov 2021 09:15:59 +0000 From: Unclebill84 Subject: Oliver and the Choir boys. Gay, adult/youth This story is dedicated to my good and kind friend Oliver. It's entirely fictional, nothing more than an exploration of our fantasies. If you enjoy it, or have any feedback, please contact me, unclebill84@protonmail.com Please donate to nifty. We need this resource to keep our needs fulfilled. https://donate.nifty.org/ Oliver and the Choir boys. Chapter one. On Oliver's laptop screen, two young boys were pleasuring an older man. They had all fondled and sucked each other's cocks and now one boy had the tip of the man's cock in his mouth while he wanked at it enthusiastically. The other, younger, boy was visible just behind, watching closely. Oliver's cock was just as hard as he ran his hand up and down it. He was going slow - he was close to orgasm but wanted to prolong his pleasure. The man on the screen started to moan loudly and the boy looked up into the camera. Both boys were blond with light blue eyes, Oliver's favourite type. The boy in the background lay down on his belly so his face was right next to the other boy's. The delicious curves of their bare buttocks were clearly visible in the background. They looked alike, could have been brothers. Oliver slightly increased the tempo of his masturbation as he anticipated seeing the man's ejaculate on the boy's face. Then his mobile rang. Oliver ignored it and kept his eyes on the screen and his hand moving on his cock, but it kept ringing and distracted him. He clicked pause on the video and picked up the phone. The caller id said "WORK" and he got a little tingle that was a blend of excitement and anxiety. He pressed the green button. "Hello?" "Ah, hello, is that Oliver?" The man's voice was the product of very expensive English schools and was smooth as silk. "Speaking." "Excellent. This is Jonathan from the choir. Terribly sorry to call you at home in the evening, but we've had a bit of a problem here and your name came up. You sound a little breathless; I hope I didn't disturb anything." Oliver smiled. "I was doing some cardio, it's fine." He ran his free hand up and down his cock a couple of times, moving the foreskin first to cover then reveal the tip. He glanced back at the screen, the boy's mouth was frozen open as if expecting a treat. "Jolly good. Keep healthy and all that. Now, a couple of our regular chaperones have taken ill and our summer tour starts next week. We need volunteers to look after the boys while we're away, try to stop them getting into mischief, make sure they wash, that sort of thing. I'm awfully sorry it's such short notice but are you able to spend three weeks away from home?" Oliver's mind spun almost out of control. Was he being asked to sleep in a room with the choirboys? Supervise them as they washed? As they showered? Naked? He looked down at his swollen cock, which definitely approved. "I think that'll be fine. Can you get someone to cover my normal duties?" "Oh we'll get by. When the boys are away there's not so much to do. We'll all muck in. A couple of the boys suggested you by name. You know Cassius and Daniel?" Oliver gulped. Two of the most beautiful boys in the choir had asked for him. What did they suspect? "Yes, I think I know them." He knew every detail of their hair and faces, their sparkling eyes, and only wished he knew more about the rest of their little bodies. "Well, they seem to like you. Can you be packed for twenty-five days away from home from this Sunday night?" "Yes, definitely," Oliver managed to say. "Excellent! Thank you so much, Oliver; you've helped us out of a sticky situation. Come to my office in the morning and we'll iron out the details. There will be a little financial benefit to you of course." "Thank you," Oliver said, and the phone went dead. He moved his hand over his cock again and looked back to the screen. He pictured Cassius' mouth open like that over his own cock, those beautiful blue eyes looking up at him as he sprayed cum into the choir boy's open and willing mouth. He pressed play and a few seconds later both he and the man on the screen were satisfied. ****** There was a briefing from Mrs Hudson, the harridan in charge of the chaperones, which boiled down to: make the boys shower, don't let them go anywhere alone, and generally make sure they're okay. She surprised him with the question, "Do you normally sleep naked?" "Yes, usually." "Well buy some pyjamas. You'll be sharing a room with some of the boys and we can't have hairy genitals flapping about." Oliver laughed at her directness, but went to Marks and Spencer at lunchtime and bought two pairs of light and loose shorts to wear in bed. He agreed he should be covered up, though he thought his genitals wouldn't be flapping about so much as poking eyes out if he was sharing a room with preteen boys. The first week was to be a residential rehearsal week in a private boarding school in Hampshire. The pupils were home for the summer so the choir could use the dorms and all the public areas, including good sized rehearsal spaces. Oliver arrived early on the day. The bus was already waiting, and Mrs Hudson was standing with a clipboard. He saw her add a tick when she saw him, though she didn't greet him. More staff and the first few choirboys gradually appeared during the next hour, though some of the staff were driving down independently. Oliver was pretending not to look at a cluster of small boys when there was a hard tap on his back. He turned round and saw no one, and turned back to see Daniel smiling up at him in jeans and a tshirt with dinosaurs on it. Ten years old, blond and blue-eyed, he was utterly irresistible. "Good morning, Oliver," Daniel said in his sweet voice, perfectly polite as always. "Are you coming with us this time?" The smile was warm and excited and set Oliver's heart fluttering. "Yes, Jonathan called me a couple of days ago. Did you ask for me specially?" "Of course! You're the only adult who talks to us normally. The others treat us like toddlers, or only care about the music. I've asked for you to be in our dorm. Cassius should be there too." The smile never wavered for a moment, and Oliver felt his mouth ache and realised he too was grinning widely. His heart skipped a beat at Cassius' name. "Well I hope you're going to behave," Oliver said, thinking he hoped they would all be able to misbehave, quite badly. "Oh, you know us. We're perfect angels; it says so on the website so it must be true." Daniel's face suddenly went serious. "What's that on your ear?" he said, and reached up to the side of Oliver's head. Oliver felt a warm little hand on his cheek and his ear and a moment later there was a bright orange sponge ball in Daniel's hand. Daniel looked at it quizzically. "I don't know where that came from." Then he chuckled, saw some other friends and bounded off with a "See you later!" Oliver was slightly stunned. Just the brief touch of one sweet boy's hand on his face had triggered a hot lust somewhere deep in his belly, and he felt his cock start to stir. How was he going to cope with a bunch of them for over three weeks? Maybe he would just have a permanent erection for the whole trip. Eventually, everyone boarded the bus, which was uncomfortably hot after sitting in the sun, and Oliver sat near the front next to Kate, another of the chaperones. Kate was a sweet young thing, studying music at Guildhall and helping out at Libera for some extra money. He heard about her course, her family, her dog, and all the gigs she'd got even though she was only in first year. It was neither terribly interesting or overly taxing, since Oliver didn't have to say much. The boys behind him were being noisy, talking loudly, sometimes shouting, occasionally breaking into song. It was nothing like the boys who had sung off key oasis songs when Oliver had been at school, more like a troupe of angels singing about heaven. Oliver was desperate to turn round and see them, to walk up the bus isle and see all the clean, innocent faces, to sit beside them and put an avuncular arm round their small shoulders, maybe to stroke them affectionately, maybe put a friendly hand on an upper leg, slap it playfully, and move up and tickle at those tiny genitals while the boys laughed at how silly he was being. He folded his hands on his lap to hide the growing erection, and tried to concentrate on what Kate was saying about her dog, which liked to wait until the dining table was unattended before trying to steal a few scraps. It had once run off with a whole roast silverside of beef. Oliver listened and laughed at the correct moments. After a couple of hours they arrived at the school, which looked more like a stately home, with extensive grounds. They passed rugby and cricket pitches as well as lots of lawns, beautifully planted gardens and some woodland. The building could have been a setting for a Merchant Ivory Christmas special. Mrs Hudson sorted everyone out, reading off the many lists on her clipboard. She called groups of names, gathered them and led each group to a room. She came and stood next to Oliver, then shouted names: "Daniel, Ben, Cassius and Oliver!" Her volume and projection were impressive at close hand and Oliver wondered if she'd had singing training in the past. Four boys appeared beside them, and Oliver almost swooned in delight. The bright, intelligent face of Daniel, the similarly blond and blue-eyed Ben, the also blond but smaller Cassius and the tallest and slightly darker Oliver. The last was the only one Oliver wasn't familiar with, but he was very handsome. His hair was darker and his eyes a warm brown. He looked Mediterranean but spoke in perfect, clipped English. Mrs Hudson interrupted whatever the boys were saying. "Room four. Collect your luggage and follow me." All five of them retrieved bags from the pile outside the coach and dutifully followed, chattering about this and that as Mrs Hudson led them down a maze of corridors to a wood panelled door with an old cast iron number 4 on it. She opened it and led them in. It was like a very large hotel room, rather than the hospital ward Oliver had expected. There were four single beds along the left hand wall, one on the right. Each bed had some adjacent storage furniture. Beyond the bed on the right hand wall were some taller cupboards or wardrobes, and a door that, on investigation, led to a large bathroom with two toilet cubicles, two sinks and a communal shower area with three showers. The decor was simple but tasteful, and there were inaccessibly high windows on all the walls, and one larger window in the bathroom. "Lunch in the dining hall at 12.30," Mrs Hudson announced, followed by afternoon rehearsals. There are copies of the full schedule for the week on the wall of the main hall. You may take photos of it if you want." In a flash, she was gone. The boys excitedly negotiated whose bed would be whose, with the assumption that the solo bed would be the adult's. Once that was sorted, they all started to unpack and put clothes and underwear away in drawers. Oliver sat on his bed and watched, thinking that supervising meant he was allowed to look at them without having to worry about being caught. Daniel seemed to be taking charge, Ben was humming a tune, little Cassius was quietly getting on with it and young Oliver was finished in under a minute. Oliver threw off his trainers and calmy took off his trousers, revealing slim but nicely muscled brown legs and white boxer shorts. "I'm going to wear shorts," he announced, pulling a pair from his drawer. "Good idea," said Ben, "it's always hot in the big hall. And in the next minute all four boys had removed their jeans and changed into shorts. Oliver was almost drooling at the slim smooth young legs and the glimpses of underwear he'd seen. Cassius was wearing Spiderman briefs that were adorable and Oliver's mouth had gone dry staring at the spectacle. His cock was already stiff again and he was worried that it would be obvious when he stood up. Then Daniel looked at him and walked over. For a terrible moment Oliver thought he'd been rumbled and was about to be called out for his ogling, but Daniel smiled and said, "We can't have two Olivers in the room." He looked back at the other Oliver. "One of you needs a nickname. What do you think, boys?" They all came over and examined the two Olivers. Both had brown hair, both were slim and there was probably only a six inch height difference. Adult Oliver had blue eyes in contrast to young Oliver's lovely brown. Cassius smiled cheekily and said, "How about Old Oliver?" The other boys laughed. "The old man." "How about grandad?" "I'm twenty two!" Oliver objected. "How about we call you shrimp?" He was thinking he wouldn't mind being called Daddy but managed to hold his tongue while the boys laughed again. They were now standing round him, close enough for him to reach out and touch if he dared. The ideas kept coming. "Big Olly and Little Olly?" "Bigoll and Liloll!" "Boll and Loll!" "Bolly and Lolly!" Every new iteration brought more laughter from the boys, and they started to push each other and wrestle a bit, then young Oliver and Ben fell, grappling, onto the bed next to Oliver, who felt such a mix of delight, lust and fear that he just didn't know what to do. The wrestling continued and they rolled round the bed, giggling and scraping their bodies against Oliver's. Then they were either side of him, reaching for each other round him and young Oliver's hand landed firmly on his erection. It was only a second of contact but the Olivers locked eyes for a moment and the boy smiled at him and winked! Oliver tried to stay composed and take control. "Right, boys. It's getting silly now. Why don't you all call young Oliver Olly and call me Your Royal Highness?" The laughter exploded and the other boys jumped on the bed for more rough play. Oliver was in Heaven. The boys' bare legs kept rubbing against him and he felt a hand on his erection again, for a bit longer, and slightly squeezing this time. In the tangle of limbs he couldn't be certain but he thought it was Oliver again. "Okay boys, that's enough. You're going to break my bed." They calmed down quickly and had a short, more sensible discussion that ended with the decision that Oliver would be called Oliver and the twelve year old who shared his name would be Olly, or maybe Lolly. Olly kept smiling at Oliver and glancing at the bulge in his trousers, which Oliver tried to make less conspicuous by leaning forward a little, and crossing his legs. Oliver looked at his watch. "Boys (he even got a little thrill saying the word), we've got half an hour till lunch. Does anyone want to have a wash or anything?" Ben said, "I washed this morning. I'm fine." Daniel chipped in, "I washed last week. I should be fine till about September." "I only wash on Sundays," said Olly. "What's wash? I've never heard of it," said little Cassius, straightfaced. Oliver was slightly intimidated by the confidence and cleverness of the boys but felt he had to assert some authority. "Mrs Hudson was very clear in my instructions. I've to make sure you all wash, otherwise I'll incur her displeasure. And nobody wants that." Heads were shaken in agreement. "So you'll all be clean every day if I have to drag your skinny bodies into the shower by your ankles." "That sounds like fun," said Oliver, smiling. "I could do my whole year's quota of showering during this tour and not have to do it again till next year," said Ben. Oliver nodded. "Fine by me. You can smell all year except when I might get into trouble for it. You could just wash your faces just now to humour me, and shower later." Cassius said, "Then I'll get soap on my hands too. You didn't say to wash them." He kept his face absolutely innocent and guileless. "We all have to make sacrifices," Oliver said. A short time later the boys faces were freshly washed and glowing. Oliver had stayed sitting on his bed listening to the tinkle of young voices and laughter from the bathroom, and his erection subsided a little. Lunch was an informal and quite loud affair, with the boys at long benches and the staff at smaller tables near the door. There was good soup and a selection of sandwiches. Oliver was between two other chaperones, who shared their experience a bit. An older man in his forties introduced himself as Sam, and told Oliver again about the importance of hygiene. "At that age they won't wash properly unless you supervise them. Forgive me for being indelicate, but you have to make sure they wash under their foreskins. You might only need to do it once, but it's a bit of a job on these grubby little urchins." "Am I allowed to help them wash their willies? Surely that's not..." "We've all got our police checks done. We know you're not a pedophile or you wouldn't be here. Really, it's the most important part of our job." After lunch, the boys and the music staff went to the rehearsal room and Oliver went back to the room where he released his demanding cock from the restrictive denim and rubbed it for under a minute before spraying great ropes of semen onto the floor next to his bed. It was a huge relief, but his cock barely softened and he had to do it again before he felt confident about being seen in public again. He was on his knees wiping his semen from the floor when there was a knock at the door and Mrs Hudson blasted in a second later. "Washing bag," was all she said, and left a large linen hamper with a large number 4 printed on it. The door slammed behind her. Oliver's heart raced - he was almost caught masturbating in the boys' room. He would have to be more careful in future. Even after two orgasms, his head was spinning with possibilities. Would there be a group masterclass in the showers on genital hygiene, or would he have to show one boy at a time? Should he demonstrate on his own penis, which definitely wouldn't stay soft if he retracted his foreskin and washed it with slippery soapy hands? But he could hardly take hold of a ten year old penis, push the skin back to reveal the little pink tip, rub his warm soapy hands under the glans while it grew and hardened under the attention. Then the boy would have to show Oliver that he could do it himself, rubbing the soap in, cleaning every minute part until it shone. Maybe Oliver would have to taste it to test the cleanliness, run his tongue over it, maybe take it into his mouth. Maybe the boy won't have done it properly and Oliver would have to do it again for him. "Oh, it's easier for me if it's facing away like my own. I'll just kneel behind you here. Don't worry that you can feel my rigid cock pressing on your buttocks. Boys' cocks do that. It's perfectly natural. After his third orgasm he began to feel more relaxed. Dinner was much like lunch, but better, a nice pasta dish with side salad and a creamy vanilla dessert Oliver couldn't name. He was at the staff table again chatting with an older woman who told him she was in charge of all the boys' white robes, and did everyone's laundry for the whole tour. "Did you get a bag?" she asked. Oliver nodded. "We collect them in a rota, every four days. Make sure the boys put all their dirty clothes in the bag. Oh, and encourage them to wear clean underwear every day. It's much less pleasant for me if I've got three day's worth of boy sweat on a pair of socks." She laughed. " Tshirts too - the terrible trio for stinky boys is armpits, arses and feet!" After dinner there were activities, mostly games for the boys, though some had brought handheld devices and were playing video games on those. Daniel had a pack of cards and was going round the table doing card tricks. Oliver sat with more of the staff and some wine was opened. It was a Rioja, and very good, as far as he could tell. Certainly much smoother than what he usually bought from Aldi. 9pm was curfew so Oliver was instructed to go back to the room and "get the boys settled." The boys followed him well enough: they were tired but still excited at being away with all their friends. Oliver got the laundry bag and left it by the bathroom door. "Okay boys. I want all today's pants, socks and tshirts in the bag. You can shower tonight before bed or in the morning before breakfast. You don't get to leave this room again till you're all showered." There were rolled eyes and cries of "yes, sir," and it was decided that everyone would shower in the morning. "That's fine. You've all to brush your teeth though." Oliver was disappointed that they went into the bathroom to change for bed - he had been hoping for more glimpses of naked boy flesh, perhaps even some buttocks or little hairless genitals. But they went through the door fully dressed and emerged in assorted nightwear. Young Olly was in baggy shorts and a a t-shirt, all the others in more boyish pyjamas. Daniel's had dinosaurs, Cassius' The Hulk and Ben had an old fashioned check design. They somehow looked younger and even cuter in their nightwear. They settled into their beds surprisingly quickly and Oliver put out the main room light. Each bed had a little reading light but Oliver didn't insist they put them out. "Everyone happy?" Nods. "Anyone need anything? Glasses of water perhaps?" Sleepy mumbled negatives. Okay. I'm going to talk with the grownups for a while, but I'll only be an hour or two. I'll pop back in and make sure you're all okay. He wanted to go and kiss them all goodnight - it felt like the right thing to do - but he didn't dare. He went back to the social area, which would have been a staffroom during term time, drank some more wine and charmed the ladies. But he was tired too and left them about ten to go to bed. He wasn't used to drinking and felt slightly unsteady on his feet as made his way back to room four. He opened the door as quietly as he could, crept into the bathroom to brush his teeth, undressed and crawled into bed. He was tired and dizzy, but also a bit horny, and knowing there were four cute preteen boys just across the room was exciting to his prodigious libido. He decided he didn't dare have a wank in bed because he would probably disturb one of the boys and get caught. He just lay still and hoped he would fall asleep. At some point he remembered he was meant to wear the shorts he bought but it didn't matter. He was almost dozing off when he heard a noise. He couldn't identify it at first - it was a rhythmic scraping sound. He wondered if there were rats or mice in the walls. But he listened more carefully and realised it was a sound he was very familiar with - someone was masturbating under the covers. The sound was a hand rubbing against the duvet as it sped up and down an erect cock. Oliver's cock began to grow as soon as he realised, and he silently moved a hand to wrap his fingers round it. The sound continued and the boy wanker started making little sounds: short pants of breath, little gasps. Oliver started to move his own hand but very slowly and silently as he heard the tempo increase from across the room. The breathing got louder and faster, and it wasn't long before the rubbing sound stopped abruptly and there was only a boy panting quickly. He must have come! Oliver assumed it was young Olly - at twelve he was the only one old enough to orgasm, though he wasn't certain. The breath gradually slowed and Oliver could imagine the boy cock under the covers, small hand still wrapped round it, drips of sweet boy semen dripping down over the knuckles. He could picture it so clearly, could almost smell it, and wanted so badly to taste it, to take that little hard cock in his mouth and suck out the last drops of boy cum, to lick what had already been spilled from the little hand, then to slide his now rock hard cock between the boy's lips. He was rubbing his cock faster now, and realised that the sound was the same as what he had first heard. What harm could it do? It was natural for guys to wank, and he had a duty to educate the boys. They should know that everybody did it and it wasn't a shameful secret. His hand was moving faster now, not pretending at all to be asleep. There was now another sound as his hand slapped his scrotum with every stroke. "That's why it's called fapping," he thought. He threw the covers back so his cock was exposed to the air, and kept wanking. The room was dark, but not pitch black - anyone looking his way would be able to make out what he was doing. His breath quickened, as did his hand, and the first shot of semen hit him on the cheek and nose. Further jets landed on his chest and belly. He lay still on his back and let his breath get back to normal. Almost immediately, he felt the panic rise. At least one boy must have heard, and possibly seen him. What if he decided to tell someone in the morning? What excuse would Oliver have? He rehearsed conversations in his head. He could try, "No, of course I didn't masturbate in the room with the boys. I would never be so unprofessional." But what if his energetic wanking had woken the others and they all heard? "Oh dear, did they hear? I was as quiet as I could but needs must. I made sure they were all asleep. I won't be doing that again." Soon, the semen still drying on his skin, he fell asleep. End of chapter one.