Date: Thu, 28 Dec 2017 23:48:38 +0000
From: puermalo14@hushmail.com
Subject: Peckerwood Prep School

This story features consensual sexual activity between a male adult and a
boy. If you are forbidden from accessing such material, or if it is likely
to offend, then read no further. Please consider a DONATION to NIFTY and
support this amazing resource.

PECKERWOOD PREP SCHOOL

The setting for this fictional tale is an English preparatory school in the
1960s.

1. INTRODUCTION

"Hurry along there, boys," I said, "It's time you were back in the
dormitories."

Not that I was particularly serious about hastening the proceedings as
watching twenty young boys taking showers was clearly one of the perks of
the job. It was the first week of a new term and, in my case, I was
steering a course through fresh territory in a new job. I had spent the
first ten years of my adult life as a journalist until suddenly changing
career and deciding to try my hand at teaching. Of course, these were very
different days to the present and virtually anybody could simply waltz into
a school and get employment. So, in return for a tidy salary and free
accommodation, I was offered the post as teacher of English along with the
extra responsibilities of a housemaster.

Peckerwood Preparatory School was a small, private boarding school for boys
aged between 8 and 13, set in the countryside yet within a few miles of the
suburban sprawl of London. There were seventy boys in all and most of these
were boarders for whom school became home, family and companionship during
term time. There were four dormitories in total named, rather quaintly,
after patron saints. St David's and St Patrick's were larger dorms
accommodating the younger boys (aged 8-11). They were under the experienced
supervision of a certain Mr Smyth, who had taught at Peckerwood for more
than thirty years. The other dorms, St Andrew's and St George's, were
smaller affairs each with beds for ten older boys (aged 11-13). Between
them was my frugal suite of rooms from where I could preside.

Perhaps that's enough about the school and we should return to the scene in
hand, the showers. The younger boys had long since departed, smelling soapy
sweet and delivered into Mr Smyth's capable hands. That had left me with
the older lads to keep an eye on, and what a delicious spectacle that was!
Of course, I had to be discrete and couldn't simply gawk. Mr Smyth had
suggested that standing by the door was the best vantage point (although he
was referring to the best position to maintain good order rather than
perusing the beauty of pubescent youth) and so that is where I was standing
now. The shower room offered no privacy to the tender `showerees' and was
simply divided into two areas, one with benches and hooks for changing and
one with half-a-dozen showerheads sticking out from the wall splashing my
young charges with warm water.

I looked upon them all, allowing my eyes to rest on four particular
puppies. First, there was Miles, one of the oldest boys at Peckerwood and
clearly the most developed. His prick was of sausage-like proportions
decorated above with a defined bush of freshly sprouted pubes. His balls
dangled provocatively, suggesting he was more than capable of producing a
decent load of hot, boy-jizz. He was joshing with Nicholas, his best
friend. Nicholas was a beauty; a classic mix of angelic looks and devilish
behaviour. His perky bum was on display for me until he turned to reveal
his delightful boyknob, just on the cusp of bursting into adolescence. A
trace of wispy pubes added to the attraction as I wondered if he was able
to produce much spunk yet.

My eyes wandered towards William. He was a tall, rather lanky,
twelve-year-old. I could hardly believe what I saw as I noticed his prick
was sticking out and obviously erect. Was he enjoying the company of naked
boys or was this merely a reaction to the warm water of the showers? Its
thinness seemed to match the boy's slender physique and its four-inch
length held a tantalising prospect. I was intrigued by the lack of reaction
from the other boys. Maybe boys getting stiffies at shower time was par for
the course, I thought, or perhaps William always put on this show and his
peers were used to it by now. The other boys always shortened his first
name to Willie and I smiled to myself at the appropriateness of the
epithet.

The shower room was gradually emptying and the boys, towels wrapped
precariously around their middles, were making their way upstairs to the
dormitories. Among those left was a boy called Dominic. His father worked
in London as ambassador for a Mediterranean nation and young Dominic had
clearly inherited his family's olive-skinned, dark features. His bum was
fleshy yet not fat and somehow begged to be squeezed and fondled. He was a
shy youngster, however, and of all my charges his was the only cock I had
yet to ogle. He went from shower to bench in such a way as to protect his
modesty from spying eyes. What treasures lay beneath that towel, I
pondered, and when would I be allowed to at least see them for myself?

As my first shower-time duty ended I little realised that I'd soon have my
hands upon Dominic's juvenile delights.

...


2. DOMINIC GETS A HELPING HAND

Once my evening duties were over I generally retired to my rooms alone,
catching up on marking books before going to bed. All very dull, I know,
but that was the life of a boarding school teacher. Once or twice each
evening, at Mr Smyth's suggestion, I would take a wander around the two
dormitories I was responsible for. It was mostly to check that the boys
were not chattering into the night, he'd said. I was rather hoping that it
might prove more entertaining than that and I was eventually not to be
disappointed.

It was now the second week of term and my dormitory checks had so far been
limited to reprimanding one or two youngsters whispering excitedly when
they should have been fast asleep. I would always move about the dark
dormitories as quietly as I could. The practical reason for this was that I
didn't wish to disturb the sleeping boys although this was tinged with the
rather depraved expectation that I might find some of my young charges
engaging in `inappropriate' activities. Sadly, they all appeared to be
sound asleep so I returned to my rooms for the night.

I had only been back in my rooms for a few minutes when there was a gentle
tap on the door that opened into the dormitories.

"Come in," I said. The door opened and there stood young Dominic in his
striped pyjamas. "Don't just stand there, boy, come on in." He tentatively
stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "So, what can I do for you?"
He looked sleepy and his mop of jet black hair was tousled.  "I had a funny
dream, sir," he spoke at last.  "A nightmare?" I asked. "Did it frighten
you?"  "Not exactly a nightmare, sir, more like a peculiar dream, really."
"A peculiar dream?"  "Yes, sir, and when I woke up I think I had wet the
bed a little."

I quickly realised that what Dominic was describing must have been a wet
dream. Intrigued, I questioned him further. "Was it a dream with naughty
things in?" I probed.  He hesitated a little, then replied, "Yes, but I'm
too embarrassed to explain, sir."  "And you wet yourself?"  "Only a little
bit, here...see?" he said, pointing to the front of his pyjama bottoms.
"Come here and show me," I instructed. He stood before me and, sure enough,
there was a little wet patch there.  "Hmm, I see," I went on, casually,
"It's nothing to worry about, Dominic."  "But I haven't wet my bed since I
was a baby," he complained.  "This is different," I said, "You haven't peed
yourself, you've had what's called a wet dream, that's all."  "A wet
dream?" he replied, "Why, sir?"  "Sit next to me here and I'll explain," I
said, patting the sofa. He joined me, looking puzzled. "Now, how do we
begin?" I continued, "How much do you know about the birds and bees?"
"Nothing much, sir," he said, sheepishly, "Except for what a man does with
a lady to make a baby."  "That's called intercourse," I explained.  "That's
not the word I know!" he said with a grin.  "Yes, very funny, Dominic," I
reprimanded him gently, "There are lots of slang words for it but polite
boys shouldn't use them."  "Sorry, sir."  "So, tell me, what do you know
about intercourse?"  "Well, a man gets his willy stiff and then puts it in
the lady's hole."

I decided not to correct his language this time but asked him to continue.
"He pushes it in and out for a bit and then some white stuff comes out and
then the lady might have a baby a few months later. That's about all I
know, sir." he concluded.  "You know quite a lot," I said. "Now let me
explain about your wet dream. When a boy is little he can't make any of the
white stuff you mentioned. But when he gets older, usually around your age,
his testicles start to make the eggs that go into the white stuff."
"Testicles? Eggs?" he asked.  I bit the bullet and coaxed him
onwards. "Look, the easiest way is to show you," I said, "But this has to
be our secret and you mustn't tell anyone, understand?"  "I understand,
sir," he nodded.  "Now, pull your pyjamas down and I'll show you."

He was like putty in my hands, ripe and willing. He quickly slipped his
pyjamas down to his knees and we both found ourselves staring at his
twelve-year-old delights. His prick was a beauty. A plump two inches or so
with a pretty foreskin narrowing over the tip to a wrinkled point. I could
see the residue of his erotic dreaming glistening there. A smattering of
delicate pubes was just beginning to emerge at the base – so few I could
have almost counted them one-by-one. A perfect, hairless scrotum rested
beneath, squashed a little by his thighs and showing off a pair of balls no
larger than the gobstoppers the boys liked to buy at the school tuckshop! I
pointed at the little sac.  "There," I explained, "Those are your
testicles."  "My balls, sir?"  "Yes, that's right...but testicles is the
correct term."  "And that's where the eggs are made to help make babies?"
"Correct, and I see that you are getting to the age when you start making
them."  "How do you know, sir?"  "Because of these," I said, pointing at
the nascent pubes. He didn't recoil from my attention and so I went
further, running a fingertip over them. "These show that your growing up
and changing."  "Golly gosh! I wondered what they were for!" His innocence
was so endearing.  "You will have seen that some of the other boys have
them too, I'm sure."  "Yes, I have," he agreed.  "And this," I said,
pointing at the tip of his pretty cock, "This is some of the sticky stuff
that you made in your wet dream."

He seemed to be enjoying the impromptu lesson (was I imagining it, or was
his penis just a little larger than before?) and he allowed me to touch the
tip of his cock where a bead of clear, viscous fluid was visible. I put the
droplet on my finger and held it up. He examined it and then spoke again.
"So, that little drip could make a baby?"  "Yes, it might," I grinned.
"But I don't understand why it happened all by itself."  "It was the
dream," I explained, "And your body letting you know you're growing up."
"That's amazing, sir!"

I lusted for this young boy and decided it was now or never if I was to
take things further. "Did you know there are ways to make the stuff when
you're awake, too."  "Really?" he replied, "How?"  "Does your willy ever go
big and stiff?" I couldn't believe it, now I was using his words!  "You
mean a bonk on!" This was the word the boys used back in those days to
describe an erection.  "Yes, a bonk on."  "Oh, yes, I do," he
enthused. "Sometimes it is a nice feeling but sometimes it happens when I'd
rather it didn't which is very embarrassing."  "When you get a bonk on what
do you do about it?"  "If I'm in bed then I like to lay on my tummy and
push it on the mattress." He was being so open and honest, and the
conversation was now clearly exciting him for his cocklet was definitely
stiffening.  "Do you ever hold it and play with it."  "Sometimes, yes."
"Well, if you play with it in the right way you can make the stuff come
out. It is called masturbating."  "Is that the same as tossing off?" he
said. "Some of the boys talk about tossing off and I've never understood
what it meant."  "Yes, masturbating is the correct word for tossing off,
Dominic."  "Ma – stur – ba – ting..." he repeated, enjoying the
sound of the new word.  "Tell me, Dominic, have you ever tried
masturbating?"  "No, sir, I don't think I know how."  "Would you like me to
show you?"  "Ooh, yes please, sir, I'd like that very much."  "Well, I can
see that your willy is already very hard so that's the first part done!" I
chuckled, looking at the three-inch stiffy that was now pointing straight
upwards. I took hold of it between a thumb and two fingertips. Dominic
sighed with satisfaction and instinctively leaned back onto the sofa
allowing me better access.

I rubbed the warm rod for a few moments, feeling it's boyish solidity.
"Ooh, sir, that's nice!" he muttered.  "Sit on my lap, it'll be easier," I
suggested.

The boy slid sideways and I hoisted his light frame until he sat on my
legs. In the process, his pyjama bottoms dropped down to his ankles and he
kicked them off as I took up my grip once more. I could now get two hands
on his tender body and as I jerked him slowly I ran my other hand over his
smooth belly and up his delightful chest.

"I think you have a bonk on, too, sir," he giggled, "I can feel it pushing
against my bottom."

How I wish I could slide it right up his young bum! But I had to take
things slowly this first time. I figured if I could make him feel special
then he'd be willing to come back for more.

I ran a finger around the little nubs of his nipples and he moaned
quietly. His cocklet was responding to the wanking motions and I could feel
it stiffen and pulse between my fingers.

"Is that nice?" I asked, whispering in his ear.  "Lovely, sir!" he replied.
"Can you feel anything in your willy yet?"  "It tingles a bit, sir, like I
need a pee."  "That means the sticky stuff is coming soon. Just let it
happen, Dominic."

I gradually quickened the movements and let my free hand explore the
hairless bag of his tiny scrotum. The little nuggets were pulled up tight
against his body and I knew he was getting close. He was breathing heavier
now and his eyes were clenched shut.

"Come along, Dominic, make some spunk for your teacher!" I encouraged. His
legs stiffened and his toes wiggled.  "It feels funny, sir, it's nearly
there!"

He opened his eyes and fixed them intently on his little prick, my fingers
rapidly rubbing it. Then, with a pant, he climaxed. A bubble of clear fluid
rose an inch or so from the tip of his cock and dripped down onto my
fingers. Another offering of sweet boyjuice oozed from between his wrinkled
foreskin as I slowed my pace. With a little shudder of satisfaction I felt
his body slump.

For a minute we both remained still, the only movement was a finger and
thumb that was easing the last miniscule drops of hot goo from the
youngster. Eventually, he regained his composure and sat up. His little
offering was on my fingers and I displayed it for him to admire.  "There,
Dominic, you just made some spunk for your teacher!" I passed him a
handkerchief. "Here, wipe yourself with this."

He wiped his softening pricklet and I used the diversion it provided to
taste his sweet juice, licking my fingers clean.  "You had better get back
to the dorm," I ordered.

He stood and pulled his pyjamas back on – giving me a brief but
delightful view of his perky behind.  "That was lovely, sir, thanks for
teaching me."  "I can teach you other things, Dominic, but this has to be
our secret, do you understand?"  "Yes, sir," he grinned, "I won't tell a
soul, I promise.  "Off you go then."  "Can I ask you something before you
go, sir?"  I nodded.  "Once I go to bed are you going to do that
masturbating thing by yourself?"  "I most certainly will, Dominic, now off
you go...and sweet dreams."  "At least they won't be wet ones this time!"
he beamed, before leaving the room and tiptoeing back to his bed.


...

I wonder what happens next? Does the teacher's relationship with Dominic
continue? Perhaps something happens with some of the other boys? I have
some ideas but would welcome comments, requests or suggestions:
puermalo14@hushmail.com

By the way, there are several of my other stories on NIFTY. These include:

Spunkford Preparatory School for Boys (Adult-Youth)
After School Fun (Incest)
Making Danny Spunk (Young Friends)
F-Club (Young Friends)
Sam's Sex Adventures (Young Friends)
English Choirboys (Young Friends)
Danny's Summer Holidays (Young Friends)
Danny's Christmas Holidays (Young Friends)
Isaac, Jake and Archie (Young Friends)
Webcam Teens (Young Friends)
Knights of the Round Table (Young Friends)
Wagtails and Spartans (Young Friends)