THE HUNTING SEASON

By Pink Panther

If you've been following the story, you'll know that we've disclaimed numerous time, so I'm not about to do it again. Thanks for the feedback to chapter 46, which was most encouraging. Of course, more is always welcome. Please send your comments to archimedes294@hushmail.com and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

May I also remind you again to consider donating to Nifty in order to ensure that it can continue to operate as a free resource which benefits us all.

Now read on and enjoy!

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

January 1961

At Monday morning break, Alex made his way to Neil Fleming's classroom.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Neil asked, smiling.

"It's about Bradshaw," Alex explained. "By last weekend, he'd caught up to where I am with 3-Red, so I gave him some revision sheets to do, testing all the work we've covered so far. He did them all perfectly. Obviously, with a class of thirty-two, I can't race ahead, or I'd leave some of the weaker boys behind, so Bradshaw's now overtaken them. I'm at a bit at a loss as to what to do with him. We've got too much stuff to get through for him to do O-level this summer, but given the speed at which he picks things up, he'll be ready well before the following summer."

"I see. Do you think he'll be prepared to work through his summer holiday?"

"Oh definitely. Now that he's got the bit between his teeth, there's no stopping him."

"Well, as long as you're around for at least part of the time, and you're prepared to help him, it shouldn't be a problem. We can enter him for the November re-sits. There are always a few boys in Lower Sixth who need to have a second crack at it. He can do it with them. Then he can do Additional Maths at the end of his second year. How does that sound?"

"I think that would be ideal."

"Where was he on Saturday? I noticed he wasn't playing."

"He's got a problem with his right heel, something to do with the way he's growing. I'm hoping to have him back after half term."

"Good, because the team certainly missed him."

"Absolutely," Alex agreed. "It's not until he's out of action that you realise how much he contributes."

February 1961

It was Tuesday morning. January had given way to February and the half-term break was less than two weeks away. As Alex was about to take his form to morning assembly, Carver approached his desk.

"Sir, may I talk to you?" the boy asked politely.

"Of course, but not now. Come and see me at morning break."

Alex wondered what it was about. Since his talk some three weeks earlier, Carver's attitude to the other boys had definitely improved. In maths club, he'd begun working with Grainger, which was encouraging, and he seemed to have stopped associating with the two wastrels whom he'd been friends with at junior school. Other than that, the lad had kept his head down and his mouth shut. It was a step in the right direction.

When the bell sounded for morning break, Alex queried how long Carver would keep him waiting. He need not have worried. Less than two minutes later, the boy appeared.

"Come and sit down," Alex said warmly, indicating the chair near his desk. He waited for the lad to sit down. "Okay," he added. "What can I do for you?"

"Well sir, after you spoke to me a few weeks ago, when Daddy got home, he said he wanted to talk to me. He asked me how I knew about the results of the entrance exam, so I told him. He said that was wrong. I shouldn't have been told. Then he told me I had to stop going round with Hartnett and Longton-Walker. He said if I didn't, he'd stop my pocket money. He said I needed to make some new friends who did well at school, not like them. Well, I've started to make friends with Grainger. On Saturday, he came to our house for tea. Daddy was really pleased. He said Grainger was exactly the sort of friend I needed."

"I'd certainly agree with that," Alex said. "Apart from being an excellent student, Grainger's one of the nicest lads you'll ever meet. Value that."

"He's a lot cleverer than me, isn't he sir?"

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd say that," Alex cautioned. "He's more self-reliant than you. But you're a good student too, and you work hard. Being friends with Grainger gives you a standard to aim at, which I know you will. And because you work hard, you'll get there; maybe not straight away, but you will eventually. So how can I help?"

"Well sir, at breaks and lunchtimes, Grainger plays football with some of the other boys. I really need to make some other friends, but it's hard, sir. I get on okay with Hawkes who sits near me, and his friend Lambert seems okay too, but at breaks and lunchtimes they're usually with Newton and Whitney."

"And is that a problem?"

"Yes sir. They don't like me. Newton made fun of me in front of the other boys."

"Really?" Alex queried, raising an eyebrow.

He thought for a moment. Although Newton was really nice, he'd be just the sort to poke fun at Carver's previous pomposity, and he had the quick wit and sharp tongue to do it.

"When was that?" he asked gently.

"Last term sir."

"Can you remember whether that was before the exams or afterwards?"

"Before the exams, sir. After he beat me in the exams, he never said a word. Whitney did though. When he knew I hadn't come top, he really rubbed my nose in it."

"I see," Alex said evenly.

He finally understood. For a start, Carver was painfully shy. Not physically attractive, he found making friends extremely difficult. In addition, the lad was very insecure, probably as a result of the pressure his mother put on him. As a result, he'd stuck with his two friends from junior school, boys that he felt safe with. He'd put up a veneer of superiority as a sort of defensive shield. It was bound to end badly, and it had.

"Well, Alex continued. "I'm not going to criticise them. At the time, your behaviour got what it deserved. But you are now trying to make a fresh start. Leave it with me. I'll have a word with Newton and Whitney and tell them I'd like them to draw a line under what went before. They're good lads. I'm sure they'll understand."

"Thank you, sir."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex had just finished afternoon registration.

"Okay, stand up quietly and make your way to your next class," he instructed. "Grainger, wait behind for a moment, I need a quick word."

The rest of the boys filed out, leaving Grainger looking puzzled.

"I'd just like to say thank you for taking Carver under your wing," Alex said quietly. "It's helped a lot."

"Oh, it's been good for me too, sir," Grainger responded. "Carver's a lot more methodical than I am. When I get something wrong, he spots it right away."

"Excellent!" Alex congratulated, admiring the boy's generous spirit. "I hope the two of you can build on that. It sounds like you make a good team."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

By twenty past four, Alex had just completed his Tuesday tutorial with Bradshaw. As the boy packed his books away, he moved closer to his mentor, their legs coming into contact.

"Are we going into the storeroom now sir?" he asked, grinning mischievously.

"Before that, I've got some news for you," Alex said quietly. "Yesterday I had a chat with Mr Fleming. He suggested that instead of you waiting until next summer to do your O-level exam, you could do it this November. There are always a few boys in Lower Sixth who failed it at their first attempt and need to take it again. You'd do it with them. There's just one catch. It would mean you'd have to work through your summer holiday. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Oh yes, sir! Of course I would!"

"Good, because that's what I told Mr Fleming."

"So what would we do after I'd done the O-level exam?"

"I'd get you ready to take Additional Maths the following summer, which you'd sit alongside the top Fifth Year top set."

"Wow sir!" Bradshaw enthused. "That's fantastic. When I first came here, I'd no idea I'd be doing anything like that. And it's all because you gave me the chance."

Inwardly, Alex was glowing. Bradshaw's joy and excitement were inspirational, not to mention the lad's appreciation for all the work that he'd put in. It was the best feeling possible. It was strange, he reflected. The following afternoon, he'd have sex with Pennington, and the day after that, it would be Whitney's turn. Although he looked forward to both these encounters, they paled into insignificance when compared to the connection that he'd made with Bradshaw.

With Pennington, it was purely about sex. After all, he hardly knew the lad. By contrast, he'd come to know Whitney rather well. He respected the lad as steady and industrious, but it was still mainly about sex. With Bradshaw it was quite different. Sex was just one aspect of a much deeper, broader relationship. He'd never experienced anything like it, and wondered if he ever would in the future.

Getting up from his chair, he strolled to the classroom door to make his customary of the corridor. Seeing nobody there, he turned back to his protégé.

"Okay," he said, smiling. "The storeroom it is."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At morning break the following day, Newton strode into Alex's classroom.

"You asked to see me, sir?" he asked brightly.

"Yes, come and sit down," Alex responded. "It's about Carver. As you may have noticed, since I spoke to him at the start of term, he's become quite friendly with Grainger. Well, that works well in maths club, but at break and lunchtime, Grainger likes to play football. Now on his father's strict instructions, Carver no longer spends his time with Hartnett and Longton-Walker."

"Oh, you mean Tweedledum and Tweedledee, sir," Newton interrupted. "I'm not sure if those two have a brain between them. If they do, they certainly don't use it. Carver only hung around with them because they sucked up to him."

"Well, he's not doing that any more, and as he doesn't have any other friends, he's been spending his breaks and lunchtimes on his own. Now it turns out that he gets on pretty well with Hawkes. He'd like to be able to spend his breaks and lunchtimes with Hawkes and his friend Lambert, but they're always with you and Whitney. That's something of a problem for him. Apparently, last term you made fun of him in front of the other boys."

"Yes sir, but only because he was being such a prick."

Alex stifled a giggle. He couldn't actively condone Newton's choice of language, but he wasn't going to argue with it.

"That's fair enough," he said, smiling, "but he's now trying to make a fresh start. What I'm asking is that you draw a line under the past and allow him to spend his breaks and lunchtimes with you. Carver doesn't find making friends easy. For you to give him that opportunity would help enormously."

"That's okay sir, as long as he behaves himself. Do you want me to mention it to Whitney?"

"No thanks. I think it would be better if he heard it from me. Would you ask him to see me here at the start of the lunch break?"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As Alex expected, Whitney was much less understanding.

"Do we have to sir?" he queried, when asked if he was happy to allow Carver to spend breaks and lunchtimes with his group of friends.

"No, of course you don't have to," Alex said sharply. "I can't dictate who you spend your free time with. However, I do think it's something you ought to do. You don't find making friends easy, do you?"

"No sir."

"And you're a good-looking boy. Carver doesn't even have that in his favour. All I'm asking is for you to give him a chance."

"I hope he doesn't think he'll be able to boss us about."

"I don't think there's the slightest chance of that," Alex said firmly. "But you don't have to worry. Newton definitely wouldn't stand for that, and you know how sharp he can be."

"Yes sir."

"And finally, I'm asking you to do it as a favour to me. I've taken on the task of helping Carver to get himself sorted out, and I'd appreciate your help."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't really understand."

"That's fine," Alex said, smiling. "Just one more thing. We won't be having visitors on Saturday. I was thinking of asking Pennington to join us if that's okay?"

"Yes sir," Whitney responded, rather ungraciously. "I suppose that'll have to do."

"Right," Alex said, reluctant to pull the lad up a second time. "I'll let you go and get your lunch."

He watched the teenager leave the room. As far as the main business was concerned, he'd got the result he wanted. But one concern was still gnawing away at him. Unlike Newton, who was part of a fairly large family, Whitney was an only child, just as he had been. And just as he'd done when he was little, Whitney always thought of himself first.

Fortunately, even before he went away to boarding school, his parents had been very firm with him about the need to consider the needs of other people. Although he knew that his parents loved him, he had not been allowed to be the centre of their universe, nor of anyone else's.

It seemed that Whitney's parents had never bothered with anything like that. The boy's father pretty well ignored him and his mother over-compensated. He'd just witnessed the result. In the main, Whitney was a good lad, but at times he could be very self-centred. It was not one of the boy's more attractive qualities.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At the end of 1-Blue's class on Wednesday morning, Alex called Bradshaw up to his desk.

"Come and see me at the start of the lunch break," he instructed. "I've got some news for you."

Within seconds of the bell sounding for lunch, Bradshaw appeared in Alex's classroom. As always, he immediately sat down on the chair by his mentor's desk.

"Right!" Alex said brightly. "I've had a reply from my friend Dr Kirby who specialises in sports injuries. Basically, he's confirmed what your doctor told you, and he's put a name to it. It's called Sever's Disease. Actually, it's not really a disease at all, it's an over-use injury associated with the bones in your heel fusing together, just as your doctor said. However, there are a couple of things that you can do which will help. Do you have a fridge at home with a freezer compartment?"

"Yes sir."

"Then every evening before you go to bed, wrap some ice cubes in a wet cloth and put the cloth around your heel. Leave it there for twenty minutes or so. At weekends, you can do it twice a day. Keep doing it till the pain's completely gone."

"Yes sir."

"In addition, Dr Kirby's given you some stretching exercises to do, which will also help. So take your shoes off and I'll guide you through them."

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Bradshaw worked through the six exercises until Alex was sure the lad knew how to do them properly.

"Well done!" he said, handing over the sheets of diagrammatic instructions. "You're to do these exercises every evening before bedtime. But unlike the ice treatment, I want you to continue doing them. In around eighteen months' time, the bones around your knee will begin to fuse together. That can cause a much more serious problem. It's called Osgood-Schlatter's Disease, and young footballers who run around as much as you do are at the greatest risk. Doing these exercises as a part of your daily routine will strengthen the muscles and give you the best chance of avoiding it. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir! I've got to keep doing the exercises every day, right through the year, holidays as well."

"Exactly!" Alex said, beaming. "Right, we'd better go and get some lunch!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Later that afternoon, Under-12 football training went as well as he could have hoped, although they weren't really able to find a way to compensate for Bradshaw's absence. Afterwards, Alex took Pennington back to his flat, fucking the lad with far more conviction than he'd been able to manage the week before.

The following afternoon, Whitney arrived for their usual assignation. As always, he sat down by Alex's desk.

"Sir," he asked. "Why aren't we having any visitors this Saturday?"

"Because Mr Brown is taking Long to Mr Smith's establishment."

"Couldn't they have done that on Sunday?"

"Really Whitney!" Alex protested. "Whether or not they could have done it on Sunday is neither your business nor mine. The fact is that they're doing it on Saturday, and that is as much as I can tell you."

Michael eyed him suspiciously. Alex could almost see the wheels turning in Whitney's head. The lad had obviously worked out what was going on. He knew why Mr Brown and Mr Smith couldn't meet on the Sunday, namely that one of them would be visiting his flat to have sex with Bradshaw. Alex wasn't going to deny it. That would be pointless. Instead, he decided to fire a warning salvo.

"On Saturday," he said evenly. "I've arranged to pick up Pennington at two o'clock. His time-keeping's not the best, so I suggest that you don't arrive at the flat before twenty past. I don't want you hanging around outside. And while you're at the flat, I would appreciate it if the name Bradshaw did not cross your lips. Although Bradshaw knows I'm having sex with Pennington, Pennington does not know I'm having sex with Bradshaw, and for the time being I'd like to keep it that way. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Michael acknowledged, almost intimidated by his form master's quiet, purposeful tones. "So what are we going to do?"

"I thought we might try another chain fuck, if that's okay?"

"Yes sir. That'd be super!"

"Right! So are you ready then?"

"Yes sir," Michael responded, fondling his burgeoning erection. "I'm always ready."

Alex grinned. The thirteen-year old was hungry for cock whenever he could get it. He checked the corridor. It was deserted. Strolling back to his desk, he ushered Whitney into the storeroom, ready to give the lad the good, hard fucking he so clearly needed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

On Saturday morning, the Woodchurch under-12 football team lined up for their home match against Northridge, the strongest team in the area. The first few minutes were quite cagey, the teams feeling each other out. Unfortunately, that was all it took for the Northridge team to realise how little attacking threat their opponents possessed. Accordingly, they directed their tall centre-half to mark Sanderson, and another very competent defender to keep tabs on Monk.

After that, it was almost one-way traffic, with eight Northridge players launching one attack after another. Heroically though Beckett, Wade and the rest of the Woodchurch lads defended, they could not hold out indefinitely. After twenty minutes, the dam was broken. By the end of the match, the Woodchurch team was on the wrong end of another four-nil drubbing. It was a bitter disappointment.

As they trooped disconsolately back to the changing room, the master in charge of the Northridge team came across to shake Alex's hand.

"Thanks for the game," he said. "I was expecting it to be harder than that. You've had some good results recently."

"Thanks," Alex acknowledged. "Unfortunately, ten days ago our best player pulled up in training. He's our outlet. He's the one that makes things happen. Without him, we've got very little going forward."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's got a problem with his heel, to do with the bones fusing together. He was in agony. I couldn't risk putting him in the team. We'd have had to play at least half the match with ten men.

"That is unfortunate. I've come across that once or twice. It's always the lads who do a lot of running."

"That's exactly right," Alex responded. "Bradshaw runs far more than anyone else in the team."

"Well," the man said brightly. "We'll look forward to taking you on again next season."

"Yes," Alex agreed. "I hope we'll be able to give you a proper game next time"

He returned to his team's changing room. All being well, the following season they'd be able to field their strongest team against these toughest of opponents. But would he still be in charge? He suspected that he probably wouldn't. He stepped inside. The boys were sitting on the benches, waiting for him. He needed to pick them up, and it was not going to be easy.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Michael arrived at the flat just after twenty past two. The Morris Minor Traveller was parked outside, a clear indication that his form master was at home. Having locked up his bike, he entered the building, climbed the stairs to flat 4 and rang the bell. Moments later the door opened and he was ushered inside.

"Is Pennington here?" he asked.

"Yes, as arranged," Alex told him. "We're in the lounge."

He led the way through. Pennington, dressed in his school shorts, was sitting on the sofa, his legs spread apart. He looked sexy, Michael thought. He seemed to be one of those boys that always looked like that. As their teacher disappeared into the kitchen, he sat down next to the lad.

"Hi" he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Pennington answered, smiling at him. "I'm really looking forward to this. Usually, the only sex I get is after football training on Wednesday afternoons."

"Oh, right!"

"Are you going to fuck me?" he asked, leaning across to whisper in the thirteen-year old's ear.

"Yeah, sure."

"Super! I want to feel you spunking in my bum. I love that."

"Okay," Michael said firmly. "Just a moment, I need to ask Mr Faulkner something."

Getting up from his seat, he headed in the kitchen where his form master was pottering around, putting things away.

"Sir," he asked. "D'you remember last summer, when Stainham was here? You let the two of us go into the bedroom to get to know each other properly. Could Pennington and I do that? When we're ready, I'll call you."

Alex considered for a moment. While he was wary about over-indulging the lad, allowing him a little slack might help to ease things a little.

"Okay," he said. "I'll give you twenty minutes. If you haven't called me by then, I'll just come in."

Michael hurried back to the lounge.

"Come on!" he urged, extending a hand to help Pennington off the sofa.

"What's happening?" the younger boy queried.

"We've got twenty minutes to get to know each other, just the two of us."

In the bedroom, socks, shoes and pullovers were quickly discarded. The boys began to undress each other, Michael's penis already straining to escape the confines of his briefs. Of all the boys he'd been with, only Van Kerkstraat was cuter looking, but he only had a small cock. Pennington had a real beauty, and he could cum. In barely a minute, the youngsters stood facing each other, dressed only in their briefs. They were both as hard as stone.

"Let me go first," Michael insisted.

Pennington didn't object, allowing the teenager to pull down his skimpy underpants. Michael inhaled sharply. Naked, Pennington was absolute perfection.

"Okay, my turn now!" the younger lad announced before returning the favour. "Wow!" he added, admiring Whitney's penis. "I love your cock! I can't wait to have it up my bum!"

Climbing onto the bed, they snuggled up, kissing passionately. As their lips parted, Michael tried to start a conversation, but Pennington wasn't interested. Unlike Stainham, who'd been very talkative, all the twelve-year old wanted was sex.

They moved into a sixty-nine. With Pennington being taller than the other younger lads that Michael had been with, they fitted together beautifully. Michael was in heaven. Only Chris could do sixty-nines as well as this. It was almost too good. Feeling the beginnings of an orgasm, he pulled away. Moments later, with Pennington down on all fours, Michael began to lick him out.

"Oh, yeah!" Pennington moaned. "Ooooohhh!"

Drawing back, Michael coated his index finger with K-Y and pushed it right into his younger friend's anus.

"Ohhhh!" Pennington gasped. "Oh, fuck!"

Michael began to work his finger in and out, surprised by how tight Pennington was. Understandable though, he concluded, if the lad really was only getting it once a week. Applying some lube to his middle finger, he pushed that in too. Pushing in both fingers as far as they'd go, he grazed the twelve-year old's prostate.

"Oh! Ohhh!" Pennington groaned. "Oh! I want your cock!"

"There's no rush," Michael said soothingly, while giving the lad a steady finger-fucking. "We've got ages yet."

"Yes there is!" Pennington contradicted. "I want it now! Please!"

Michael was taken aback. All the boys he'd had sex with enjoyed being fucked, but none of them were quite as fixated on it as Pennington seemed to be. He bowed to the inevitable.

"Okay," he said, getting off the bed. "Just a moment."

Still naked, he strode back to the lounge. Mr Faulkner was listening to some music.

"Come on sir," he said urgently. "We're ready."

"Good God!" Alex protested. "That was quick!"

"Yes, sir. I know. But Pennington doesn't talk much, and he's begging to have my cock up him."

"Then I suppose we'd better make sure he gets what he needs," Alex agreed.

They headed back to the bedroom. Leaving his form master to get undressed, Michael got back onto the bed to complete the twelve-year old's preparation. Finally, he squeezed some K-Y onto Pennington's fingers.

"Come on!" he ordered. "You know what to do."

Grinning, Pennington duly smeared the slippery jelly over the teenager's prong.

"Okay," Michael instructed. "On your back!"

Pennington needed no further instruction. As soon as he was in position, he lifted up his legs, pulling them back and wide apart. Seeing Mr Faulkner remove his underpants, Michael moved in close, guiding his penis onto the younger lad's rosebud. With one determined thrust, he was in. With hardly a pause, he continued pushing, watching the expressions of sheer joy on Pennington's face as his cock advanced steadily into the velvety tightness of the twelve-year old's fuck-tube. Finally, he was balls-deep in the youngster's arse.

Aware that his form master was now kneeling behind him, Michael leaned forwards, aiming his lips towards Pennington's. As their mouths met in a delicious kiss, he felt Mr Faulkner's cock nuzzling his boy-hole. Utilising all his experience, he relaxed. A moment later, the man's penis slid right into him in a single, smooth movement. He needed no instruction as to what to do next. Within a matter of seconds, he was going at it as though the world was about to end.

Alex looked down, watching the shaft of his penis disappearing into Whitney's bottom as the lad pulled back, only for it to re-emerge as the lad thrust forwards into Pennington's boy-tunnel. The combination proved to be as explosive as it had previously. After barely a minute, Pennington began to gasp for air, moaning incoherently. Moments later, little jets of watery cum squirted onto his tummy.

The sensations produced by the twelve-year old's boy-hole spasming around his cock set off Whitney's orgasm, several volleys of teen-spunk spurting powerfully into the youngster's rectum. In their turn, the teenager's anal contractions took Alex right over the edge. Holding Whitney firmly around the thighs, he deposited a prodigious amount of warm, creamy semen in the thirteen-year old's bottom.

After a suitable pause, they disengaged and it was over. As the boys made their way to the bathroom, Alex was disappointed. His part in proceedings had not lasted anywhere like as long as he would have liked, and it would be at least an hour before he could perform again. Before then, he would have to drop Pennington off close to where he lived. That did leave him with the option of fucking Whitney for a second time, but he couldn't raise much enthusiasm for that. Instead, he'd recharge his batteries, ready to give Arrowsmith a good seeing-to the following day.

A few minutes later, the boys returned to the bedroom and began to get dressed.

"Next Saturday is the start of the half term break," Alex reminded them. "That means that the boys we usually meet up with will have all gone home. But Mr Brown will still be around. I was thinking we could invite him to make up a foursome, like we did at Christmas. What d'you think?"

"Oh yes, sir!" Pennington enthused. "That would be super!"

"Won't the choristers be staying at school till the Sunday?" Michael queried.

"No," Alex told him. "The choristers only stay in school for the major feasts, Christmas, Easter and Whitsun. At other times, they go home at the same time as everyone else."

"Okay then," Michael said, smiling. "Let's have a foursome with Mr Brown."

"Excellent!" Alex said, smiling. "I'll let him know."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Sunday afternoon. Bradshaw and Arrowsmith headed to the bathroom, verbally jousting with each other. There was nothing unpleasant about it, they clearly liked each other a great deal. It was just the way their relationship worked, a far cry from the gentleness with which Bradshaw and Holdsworth had treated each other a week earlier.

"I think that went rather well," Alex said, sinking into his armchair.

"Yes," Martin agreed. "Bradshaw's a real delight. And I'm impressed with the way that he stands up to Arrowsmith. None of the boys at our place will argue with him the way that Bradshaw does."

"And I had a wonderful time with Arrowsmith," Alex countered. "He seemed to enjoy every second of it. And he was beautifully tight. I guess you don't fuck him that often these days."

"No, with Long and Jessop at my disposal, there's no need to. And when I do, he seems to resent it. It's hardly worth the trouble. But you've made a big impression on him. He was pretty well eating out of your hand."

Alex knew exactly why it was that he'd managed to develop such a strong bond with the rebellious teenager, but resisted the temptation to explain it.

"What are you doing next Saturday?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Just relaxing," Martin said. "Maybe catching up with a few things."

"I wondered if you might like to come over for an hour. Whitney and Pennington will be here."

"Oh yes! Thanks for the invitation. That would definitely brighten up my weekend! Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Do you remember the last time you brought Long here?"

"Yes. After Whitney had fucked him, he sat on your cock and Whitney got spit-roasted."

"Precisely. I was wondering if we might do the same again, with Pennington taking on Long's role."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! I'll look forward to it. What time will you want me here?"

"Quarter to three would be good," Alex said casually. "There'll be no need to rush."

It was rather strange, he reflected. Leaving other considerations to one side, if he had to make a simple choice between the beautiful Pennington and the precociously developed Whitney, he'd choose the younger boy every time. He'd expected Martin to do the same, but when he'd just offered his associate what was, in effect, the short straw, the young choirmaster had accepted without hesitation, not even asking for their positions to be reversed on a future occasion.

Was this simply a case of a beggar realising that he can't be a chooser? Somehow, Alex didn't think so. For reasons that he couldn't fathom, Martin seemed to be strangely attracted to Whitney, and it appeared that the thirteen-year old had picked up on it.

It was all very odd, Alex considered. Whitney was already as tall as Martin, and his voice had begun to break. By the time he reached Third Year, the teenager would probably be even taller, and very much a young man. What was it that Martin saw in the lad?

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Towards the end of Monday lunchtime, Alex strode across to the sports pavilion and headed for the masters' changing room. Richard Needham and his number two, Gerry Forbes, were already there.

"Why wasn't Bradshaw playing last Saturday?" Mr Needham snapped.

"He's injured," Alex responded. "He's got a problem with his right heel."

"Hmmmph!" the senior games master retorted. "I thought he was supposed to be tough. Most boys would play with a bruised heel."

"He doesn't have a bruised heel," Alex corrected. "When he pulled up during training, that was the first thing I checked for. The following evening, his mum took him to see the doctor. He was diagnosed with an over-use injury associated with the bones in his heel fusing together. With all the running around he does, he's simply given it too much to do, and the soft tissue between the parts of the bone that are fusing together has become strained."

"Hmmph! New-fangled medical nonsense! I've never heard of it!"

"I also contacted James Kirby, a friend of mine from Cambridge," Alex went on. "He was a top medical student who's gone on to specialise in sports injuries. He confirmed the diagnosis. He put a name to it too. It's called Sever's Disease. It was first identified in 1912, so it's not exactly new. But you may well not have heard of it because it isn't that common. Bradshaw's only got it because he does so much running, far more than any of the other boys in the team."

"Would he suffer and long-term damage if he played?" the games master demanded.

"Not as I understand it."

"So why not put him in the team, see what happens? You're going to make him soft!"

"For two reasons. First of all, his doctor told him to rest for three weeks. If everything goes well, he should be able to resume playing then, so we'll have him back straight after half term. I'm not going to undermine that advice. Second, you didn't see him when he pulled up. If I'd put him in the team against Northridge, it might well have happened again. He wouldn't have been able to continue; he'd have had to go off. Then we'd have had to play the rest of the match with ten men. Worse than that, he'd have been off for another three weeks."

"So you're saying he'll be back after half-term?"

"Yes, as long as he does as he's told, he should be. James Kirby's given him some stretching exercises to do to strengthen the muscles. They'll aid recovery and help to prevent a recurrence. He also advised that he should keep doing them, to avoid the problems that boys like him get when the bones around the knee start to fuse together. From what I've been told, that can be much more serious."

"Oh, we know about that," Jerry Forbes interjected. "It's usually third year boys, and you're right, it's always the workhorses that get it. Some of them were out for months. And Robertson was never the same afterwards."

Richard Needham was visibly smarting. He'd picked the wrong fight and lost. Alex knew that it wasn't really about his decision not to play Bradshaw. Because of what the senior games master had discovered, he was trying to browbeat Alex into doing the wrong thing in order to keep the peace.

Alex wasn't having any of it. He'd look after Bradshaw properly, just as he would with every other boy in the team, and with sound medical advice to back him up, he knew he could count on the Headmaster's support. So if Richard Needham didn't like it, he'd have to lump it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

For Alex, the rest of the week simply flew past. Suddenly it was Saturday morning, and the under-12 football team had an away match against Linden Park. While their opponents didn't have the best team in the area, they were a long way from being the weakest. It would be a good test, Alex considered, and so it proved. While still missing Bradshaw's flair and energy, the Woodchurch boys played much better than they had in their last two games. Although the result was a one-all draw, Alex was delighted. The boys were learning, adapting and improving, and that was good to see.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At quarter past two, Alex returned to the flat, bringing Pennington with him.

"When will the others be here, sir?" the lad enquired, taking his customary place on the sofa.

"Whitney should be here in a few minutes," Alex responded, sitting down next to him. "I've told Mr Brown twenty to three, but he'll be here before that. He's always early."

Sitting with his legs well apart, the twelve-year old's thighs were largely exposed to view. Alex looked across, feasting on the sight before him. A connoisseur on the subject of boys' legs, in his opinion Pennington's were perfect, a little longer than average, slim without being skinny, firm to the touch and delightfully smooth.

Stretching out a hand, be began to stroke the lad's right thigh. In response, Pennington opened his legs even wider, a hard bulge growing in his shorts. The doorbell rang. Getting to his feet, Alex went to answer it. As expected, it was Whitney.

"Hello sir," Michael said, smiling. "Is he here?"

"Here and ready to go."

"Does he know what we've got planned?"

"No, I thought we'd give him a surprise. I'm sure he won't object. Just stay away from his cock while you're fucking him, so he'll be really horny when it comes to part two."

"Yes sir," Michael agreed.

They strolled into the lounge.

"Right," Alex announced. "I'm going to put the kettle on. Don't get up to too much mischief. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Alex was just about to return to the lounge when the bell rang for a second time.

"That'll be Mr Brown now," he said. "Early as always!"

Opening the door onto the landing, he ushered the young choirmaster into the flat.

"Is everything okay?" Martin enquired.

"Certainly! They're raring to go. I briefed Whitney on Thursday. He was very enthusiastic. He really enjoyed it the last time. I haven't said anything to Pennington but it won't be a problem."

"Tell me," Martin said, lowering his voice. "Have you had Pennington lying on his tummy yet?"

"No. A couple of times I've brought him here after football training rather than doing him in the changing room, but we've been very tight for time. Last Saturday I had a chain-fuck with him and Whitney. Apart than that, he hasn't been here since the Christmas holidays."

They strolled into the lounge. After drinking cups of tea, the foursome made their way to the bedroom.

"Okay boys," Alex instructed. "Shoes and socks off, and your pullovers."

As the boys removed their footwear and their sweaters, he took his seat in the armchair, gesturing for Pennington to stand in front of him. Running his hand over the hard bulge at the front of the twelve-year old's shorts, he smiled, licking his lips. He was going to enjoy this!

Standing up, he undid the buttons of the youngster's shirt, carefully easing it off the lad's shoulders. Pennington's white cotton vest quickly followed. With the boy naked from the waist up, he sat down again, reaching out to undo the clip at the top of the youngster's shorts and pull down the zip. Pennington gave a little shimmy, causing them to fall around his ankles. He casually kicked them off.

Alex breathed in deeply. The near-naked twelve-year old was simply stunning, as perfect an example of boyhood as he was ever likely to see. Running his fingers once again over Pennington's erection, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the youngster's briefs. Drawing the elastic away from the lad's stomach, he carefully skinned them down the boy's legs and over his feet.

He licked his lips. The preteen's body was still completely hairless. His penis, almost four and a half inches long, uncut and ramrod-straight, was standing up proudly, his pee-hole just visible beyond the lad's foreskin. Leaning forwards, Alex took it into his mouth, sucking it right down to the root. His head twisted this way and that, his tongue working overtime on the small shiny head.

Pennington stroked the man's hair, urging him to continue, but sensing that the boy was close to cumming, Alex pulled away. He stood up. Without any prompting, the twelve-year old undid his football coach's fly buttons, reaching inside to extract the man's rampant prong. Pennington knelt down. Holding it around the base, his lips closed over it. Very steadily, he pushed down as far as he could. Finally, he began to suck.

Alex was ecstatic. Although the youngster's technique was nothing out of the ordinary, having his cock sucked by boy as beautiful as Pennington was very special indeed. He glanced across. Martin was standing by the desk. Kneeling before him, the naked Whitney was sucking the man's penis.

"Okay, Mr Brown," Alex intoned. "I think it's time we moved things along."

Moments later, the boys were lying on the bed, their limbs intertwined, their pricks grinding together. Over the next several minutes, their foreplay followed its usual course, though it was no less exciting for that. Finally, Pennington got down on all-fours. As expected, Whitney began to lick him out, the older lad's tongue pushing right into his anus.

"Oooh!" Pennington purred. "Oh, that feels super!"

After a short while, the tongue was replaced by a well-lubed finger. A second one soon joined it, the two digits repeatedly grazing the twelve-year old's prostate.

With the task completed to his satisfaction, Michael allowed both fingers to slide out. Sitting back on his haunches, he coated his penis with K-Y. He didn't bother to ask Pennington if he was ready. There was no need. The youngster was ready, and all Michael needed him to do was to stay where he was. Kneeling up again, Michael shuffled in close, guiding his teen cock onto the younger boy's rosebud.

"Now push out," he urged.

Without waiting for a response, he thrust forwards as hard as he could. After a moment's resistance, he penetrated the lad, his penis sliding right in.

"Ooooohhh!" Pennington exhaled. "Oh, yes!"

After taking a moment to settle himself, Michael began to fuck. Gradually he increased the pace, spurred on by Pennington's quiet moans and whimpers. Within half a minute, he was giving it everything, pounding the youngster's arse as though he might never get another chance.

"Oh!" Pennington groaned. "Play with my cock! Please!"

"Not yet," Michael responded. "And don't you touch it either!"

He felt himself getting close, his balls beginning to churn. He slammed in hard, burying his cock as deep as he could. Almost immediately, it jerked into action, several volleys of teen spunk spurting into the twelve-year old's rectum.

For several seconds, he remained exactly where he was, experiencing that strange combination of euphoria and light-headedness that always followed a really good fuck. As he began to recover, he carefully withdrew.

"Why didn't you play with my cock?" Pennington complained. "I was dying to cum!"

"Precisely!" Michael told him. "We need to save that for later. Now go and join Mr White. He's waiting for you."

Obediently getting off the bed, Pennington stood in front of his football coach, who was sitting naked in the armchair.

"Did you enjoy that?" Alex asked, smiling. "It certainly looked like you did."

"Yes, sir, it was super, but Whitney wouldn't let me cum. He said we had to save it for later."

"Yes, that's what I told him to do. Don't worry, you'll soon understand. Now why don't you kneel down and suck me again, there's a good lad!"

Pennington complied without hesitation. Leaning back in his chair, Alex reflected on how fortunate he was to access to so many cute, horny boys. He was living the life he'd dreamed about for years. Of course, he hadn't just dreamed. He'd worked very hard to make it a reality, and this was the perfect reward for his efforts.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"So we're going to do a re-run of what we did the last time I was here," Martin said, joining Whitney on the bed.

"Yes sir," Michael responded. "I'd never done that before. I loved it!"

"Of course, you had been spit-roasted before. When I was here during the Christmas holidays, I was lying on the bed with Pennington riding my cock. You sucked him off while Mr White fucked you."

"Oh, yes sir; I'd forgotten about that. I think doing it the way we did two weeks ago is much better." He leaned in to whisper in the choirmaster's ear. "I loved seeing Long's boy-hole stretched around Mr White's cock. It really turned me on!"

"And now you're looking forward to seeing Pennington like that."

"Yes sir, and having him cum in my mouth."

"Well, we'd better get ourselves prepared," Martin urged. "They'll be ready for us soon."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Still sitting in his armchair, Alex ran his fingers through Pennington's wavy brown hair, basking in the delightful sensations the youngster was giving him. After a couple of minutes, he felt himself getting close.

"Okay," he instructed. "You'd better stop now. Stand up and turn around."

Once again, Pennington quickly did as he was told.

"Feet apart," Alex ordered. "Then bend over the bed.

Within a second, the lad was in position. Shuffling forwards in his chair, Alex leaned in, his tongue lapping eagerly at the twelve-year old's anus. As the lad moaned with obvious pleasure, he pushed his tongue right in, before finally pulling back again.

"Oooh, you sexy boy!" he enthused. "Your bottom's full of Whitney's spunk! You're ready to take my cock, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Okay, stand up!"

He paused, allowing the lad time to get upright.

"Excellent!" he continued. "Now stay right where you are and slowly sit down."

Having worked out what was going to happen, Pennington carefully lowered himself until the head of the man's cock was nuzzling his anal ring.

"Now push down on it," Alex instructed. "Go on; you can do it!"

Pennington relaxed his sphincter muscle, allowing the head of Mr White's cock to pop inside.

"Good boy!" Alex whispered, placing his hands on either side of the lad's chest. "Now just let yourself go down. I'm holding you to make sure you don't go too fast."

Relaxing again, Pennington eased his way down his teacher's hard pole until he was sitting right in the man's lap.

"Wonderful!" Alex congratulated. "Now put your feet against the side of the bed so your toes are sticking out above the mattress."

Pennington complied readily, discovering, just as Bradshaw had, how much more comfortable it was to sit with his feet raised.

Already in position, Michael licked his lips, his penis throbbing at the sight of the younger boy's anus distended around his form master's cock. He lowered his head and shoulders, his lips engulfing the twelve-year old's rock-hard prick.

"Okay, boys!" Alex ordered. "Stay nice and still!"

Within seconds, Michael was in ecstasy, Mr Brown fucking his bum while Pennington's cock was forced repeatedly into his mouth. For Michael, this was sex at its most exciting. After barely a minute, the twelve-year old's cock jerked into action, little jets of tangy boy-cum squirting onto his palate and coating his tongue. He swallowed it eagerly. Mere seconds later, he sensed Mr White filling Pennington's cute little bottom.

"Oh sir!" the twelve-year old gasped. "Oh yes! Fill me up!"

Almost immediately, Michael felt Mr Brown's spunk flooding into his bum. After a suitable pause, they disengaged. Michael knew what to do. Kneeling on the floor, he licked the spunk from Pennington's thighs, working his way up until he was taking it directly from the youngster's boy-hole. Finally, the younger lad's anus clamped shut and the flow stopped. Michael got to his feet, licking his lips.

"So how was that," Martin asked, looking the teenager right in the eye.

"Wonderful, sir! The best ever!"

Taking Pennington by the hand, Michael guided the youngster towards the bathroom.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Well," Alex declared, once the boys were safely out of earshot. "That went even better than I expected."

"Oh yes!" Martin agreed. "Absolutely marvellous!"

"What will you be doing on Tuesday afternoon?" Alex enquired.

"Nothing much. I won't be seeing Noel again till Wednesday."

"Come over if you want. Those two will be here again. Get here for around ten to four. Whitney will spend most of the day with his friend Newton, but he'll leave their house at half past three and cycle over here. It's not far. He's invariably here by quarter to."

"Oh, that really is most generous of you. Thanks for the invitation! I'll look forward to it!"

"What would you fancy doing?"

"Well first, I'd like to have a chain-fuck with the two boys, you know, like we've done before. Then Whitney and I can watch you fuck Pennington with the lad lying on his front."

"Sounds good to me!" Alex responded.

Indeed, it sounded very good, but he was more puzzled than ever. He'd presented Mr Brown with an open invitation to pound Pennington's bottom, but the young choirmaster had turned it down, preferring to do Whitney instead. It did seem very odd, Alex considered, but he wasn't about to question it. He'd finally get to fuck Pennington in his favourite position, and that suited him perfectly.