Date: Thu, 21 Jun 2018 19:20:13 +0000
From: Andy Mann <andymann303@outlook.com>
Subject: The Tartan Tart - Part 1

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. It is not based on
any real persons, living or dead. Please leave now if you are underage, or
dislike vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teenage boys.

Please send any comments to andymann303@outlook.com. And please consider
donating to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Gay/adult-youth: oral anal, t/M+

- - - - -

The Tartan Tart - Part 1

Having been top of the class at prep school, I now found myself at the
bottom again in senior school. I was a full-time boarder now, so my problem
was finding places to wank - I needed to relieve myself on a regular
basis. And I really liked to be naked whilst doing it, so sleeping in a
dorm with three other boys made that very difficult. At the prep school, I
had it organised, and we all enjoyed playing with our cocks.

Now, at night, I would surreptitiously slide my pyjama-bottoms down, and
then push my bedcovers back and wank quickly - is there any other way for
an eager thirteen-year-old boy to do it? I'm sure I was spotted one night;
I probably had been before without noticing. However, despite the fact that
I was, and still am, an exhibitionist, somehow I prefer it to be
anonymous. I could sometimes manage to be alone in the showers, but that
was highly risky. Then I discovered a cupboard, which I could lock from the
inside. That was fine for my first term, but the following term I was moved
from a junior house to a senior house, so it became almost impossible to
satisfy my urges.

Before I continue, a quick background check. My name is David Bryce. I was
born in 1951, and this account takes place in a large city in Scotland
during the 1960s.

Frustrated nights and clandestine wanks typified that term; the annoying
thing is, probably every other boy felt the same, but nobody said
anything. By the Summer term, I was feeling randier than ever, with the
same problems. The answer came about by accident, and led to further sexual
adventures and initiations.

A 'Leave Sunday' occurred approximately three times a term. It meant we
could have the full day off, away from school with friends or family. My
friends and I usually wandered uptown, dressed in our Sunday best (Argyll
jacket and kilt) after lunch. I usually went up on my own, before my
friends joined me. So, I was on my own, on that first 'Leave Sunday' of the
term, when I needed to pee.

Public toilets were thin on the ground, but I was desperate, so I stepped
into the Grand Hotel. Being smartly dressed, I marched confidently into the
main lobby and saw a sign, pointing downstairs, to the 'Gents'
toilet. There were two doors at the bottom of the stairs, one prominently
marked 'Gents'. I opened the door and made a beeline for the urinals. I
pulled my kilt up and began to pee. The relief was unimaginable. I shook my
willy and let my kilt fall back into place, and then looked around.

I could feel myself becoming sexually aroused. The place was perfect. To
the side of the urinals were three cubicles, and opposite them were the
washbasins. I went into the cubicle nearest the wall, already aware that my
cock was creating a tent behind my sporran. I locked the door and quickly
began to strip off. I took my jacket and tie off, and hung them on a wooden
peg; next my shirt came off, then my sporran, and then my kilt. I decided
to keep my hose and shoes on for some unknown reason.

I was full of anticipation by now, and didn't take enough care hanging my
kilt up. I lifted the seat and sat down, facing the cistern so that I could
feel the thrill of the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl on my loins. I
began to wank, naked and free at last. I pulled my foreskin back and forth
over the purple knob, panting quietly as I prepared to climax.

Suddenly, I heard something. I looked round and my kilt had fallen to the
floor, with part of it sticking out under the cubicle door. I couldn't
stop, though, and panted harder and quicker as I shot my load. I wiped the
end of my cock with toilet paper, stood up, and retrieved my kilt. It was
then that I thought I heard something. I stood stock still, but heard
nothing move, so I carried on getting dressed.

I opened the cubicle door and walked out; there was no one there. I went
over to the washbasin, washed my hands, and went back upstairs, with a warm
glow in my loins.

All through the week I thought of that superb Sunday outing. Now, at least
three times a term, I could have a naked wank. It was raining on the next
'Leave Sunday', and my friends thought I was mad to go out - it wasn't
normal to go out in the rain, unless you really had to.

I put my duffle coat on and cut along to the Grand Hotel. Down to the
'Gents' I went. Damn, there was a man at the urinals. I ignored him, and
went straight for the end cubicle. I locked the door and took my duffle
coat off. It was going to be tricky, getting everything on the two wooden
pegs, but it had to be done.

With the added frisson of knowing that there was a man out there, I quietly
stripped off. I began to wank; and then damn, my kilt fell to the floor
again. I was too busy to care, so I left it there. Suddenly, I felt a hand
sliding up my left thigh, heading for my ball-sac. I screamed, more from
surprise than anything else, and tried to get up.

The man restrained me with his right hand, and then said, 'Shh, be
quiet. We don't want the whole hotel knowing what you're doing in
here. Now, carry on, and let me see what I could only imagine the last time
you were here.'

As he spoke, his fingers played with my ball-sac, stroking and gently
squeezing it in a way I hadn't known before. Apparently, the edge of a coin
could be used to overcome the cubicle lock from the outside. Clearly, the
man knew his way around toilet doors.

Amazingly, my erection had only softened a little, so I began to wank
again. In no time at all, I was panting and groaning with pleasure. Then,
the man moved my hand out of the way and started wanking me off himself. I
relaxed, and could feel his hot breath on my neck as he leaned over me. I
could hear him groaning as I shot my load, right across the toilet bowl. I
had never shot so far before. I was still shuddering with the pleasure as
the final jet of spunk left my wilting cock. I wiped my knob with toilet
paper.

'Now, David,' he said. 'You can do me a favour and suck my cock.'

'Yes, sir,' I replied, wondering how he knew my name.

'Have you ever sucked on a cock before, son?'

'Only partly, sir. I tried it on a friend, but he wasn't that
interested. So I didn't push it.'

'Well, I want you to do it to me. Now turn round.'

I swivelled around on the porcelain bowl, and there was this man. You know
what young boys are like as regards age; anyone older than twenty is
middle-aged, and anyone over thirty is ancient. Well, in that respect he
was ancient. But he was clean-shaven, with blond hair, and very
well-dressed - and I supposed quite good-looking. He unzipped his trousers
and pulled out his semi-erect cock. It was obviously larger than any I had
seen before, and although I had seen my father's when it was flaccid, the
sight of this cock was truly amazing.

My jaw dropped in panic as he told me to open my mouth.

'Calm down, son,' he said, as he took hold of my head. 'Just breath through
your nose and enjoy yourself.'

Gradually, I became used to the cock in my mouth.

'That's it, David. Suck in a little more.'

As he came nearer to an orgasm, he thrust harder, and I could feel myself
slipping into the bowl. He suddenly groaned and shot his load into my
mouth. His spunk hit the back of my throat and I choked a bit. He then told
me to swallow.

'Thanks, son,' he said. 'That was great. You'll be a top-rate cock-sucker
soon. Now lick it clean!'

As he finished speaking, he pulled back the foreskin of his now flaccid
cock and I licked the wet, purple knob. He then stepped back, tucked his
cock away and said goodbye, pushing the cubicle door shut behind him.

I eventually managed to unplug myself from the porcelain bowl and get
up. It was then that I spotted the name tag in my kilt. So that's how the
man knew my name.

* * *

The following Sunday, I was on holiday, so I didn't revisit the Grand Hotel
until the next Sunday. I didn't know whether the man would be there or
not. I went into the 'Gents' and there were two men at the urinals. I
walked over and stood between them, lifting my kilt clear and peeing. Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw the man on my left looking down at my
four-inch cock; as he did so, I put my hand on my cock and shook it dry,
pulling the foreskin back and forth in a mock wank.

I let my kilt fall back as the man on my right headed for the
washbasins. As I went over to join him, he walked out. Meanwhile, my
'watcher' joined me at the basins.

'Wait there a second,' I whispered, and then went over to my favourite
cubicle.

I began to strip off as soon as I was inside, and in no time I was standing
there in just my hose and shoes, with my cock sticking up and out like a
flagpole. I quietly called out to the man and he came over. He was tall and
balding, and looked a little startled at my naked state; and for a moment,
I thought he was about to lose interest and bolt.

'Would you like me to suck your cock, sir?' I asked.

He nodded, but still looked startled. I sat on the edge of the toilet, as
usual, and unzipped his flies. His growing cock popped out, and there
certainly wasn't any reticence to proceed down there. It was long and thin,
and uncut.

I began to lick the knob, and then widened my mouth to accommodate its
length. I moved my mouth back and forth, and he shot his load in no time at
all. He quickly pushed his flaccid cock back into his underwear and zipped
himself up. He then got out his wallet and stuffed a ten-shilling note into
my hand and left.

I met him there the following 'Leave Sunday', and that's when I told him it
was the end of term, so I would be away for a couple of months. He
desperately wanted to see me again.

'We can't keep meeting here after the holiday,' he said. 'The porter will
get suspicious. There's a public toilet in the park behind the hotel. It's
quiet there on Sundays. I'll see you there.'

And so, eight weeks later, I made my way to the park. It was quiet there,
with only the occasional dog-walker. I walked up to the 'Gents' and went
in. There were just two cubicles there, with the urinals opposite. It was
all pretty bog-standard, with a heavy smell of disinfectant in the air. I
went into the cubicle nearest the wall. Luckily, there was a hook on the
door, and a shaky-looking lock.

I quickly stripped off, even my hose and shoes, and stuffed them all into a
linen bag I had brought with me for the purpose. Despite the bog-standard
decor, I was excited.

As arranged, the man whistled a pop tune when he stepped into the toilet. I
slipped the wobbly bolt back and he joined me in the cubicle. His face told
me what he thought of the surroundings, but the bulge in his trousers told
me what he wanted. As before, my naked state prompted a quick orgasm from
the over-excited man. I swallowed his spunk and received a payment of
ten-shillings.

He opened the door as soon as he was ready, exposing my nakedness to the
two men waiting outside.

'Okay, grandad,' said man number one. 'It's our turn now.'

Grandad quickly ran off; and as he did so, I tried to close the
door. Unfortunately, man number two put his shoulder to the door and kept
it open.

'Not so fast, blondie. 'Ralph and I need a word.'

'And a grope,' added Ralph. 'Alec and I are always on the look out for new
talent, especially unwrapped and naked talent.'

Ralph dropped his jeans and underpants, revealing a large hairy cock and
ball-sac. His cock was fully erect in seconds.

'Now, boy,' he continued. 'This is what a real man's cock looks like.'

He held my head back and pushed his cock right into my mouth. I gagged as
the knob hit the back of my throat. He held me firmly, and kept thrusting
his hips back and forth. My eyes began to tear up, but I was in no position
to fight him off. He just kept at it, until he shot his load into my mouth.

A minute later, Ralph handed me over to Alec. He was far more gentle, and
his cock was not as long as Ralph's. However, he did have a lot of staying
power.

'Suck it, blondie,' he said. 'You're our little cock-sucker now.'

'Hand me his clothes, Alec,' said Ralph. 'They're in that bag on the hook.'

I tried to protest, but with a cock in my mouth, I didn't get very far.

Alec settled into a rhythm and took his time, and as he kept telling me to
suck cock, Ralph checked out the bag. My jaw ached by the time Alec finally
shot his load.

'Right, bitch,' said Ralph. 'Stand up and follow us out, into the
sunshine. And stay well back, if you want to see your clothes again. We
don't want to be seen walking with some naked kid in the park. What would
people think?'

'Please, sir,' I implored. 'Let me get dressed now. I'll suck on your cock
all year, whenever you want. Just let me get dressed now.'

'Nope,' said Alec. 'You're one of those posh, stuck up tarts from that
private school, aren't you?'

'Yes, sir,' I said, nodding my head.

'We've fucked your kind before,' said Ralph. 'You're all frustrated little
buggers, and those teachers...'

'Don't tell him about the teachers,' interrupted Alec. 'He might go
looking.'

'Right! Right!' said Ralph. 'Now just follow us out, bitch. We're gonna
take you walkies.'

I stepped out of the toilet block and followed the two men. I was hoping
the park was still as empty as it had been earlier. Luckily, it
was. However, the gravel path made it very painful, underfoot, to follow
the men around the park.

'Keep back, bitch,' said Alec. 'Our van's by the park's side entrance, so
jump in the back when we open the doors.'

In the van, Ralph eased my arse-cheeks apart and thrust forward, hard. I
screamed as his cock entered my arsehole and pushed its way in. My body
writhed on the metal floor of the van; I wanted to keep screaming, but Alec
was covering my mouth with his hand.

'I greased you up good, bitch,' said Alec. 'So you shouldn't be hurting
that much.'

'He's real tight,' said Ralph. 'So that's why he's hurting.'

The pain overwhelmed me as my anus throbbed for a respite, which didn't
come. I was sweating profusely; and then thankfully, the man shot his load
into my inner sanctum. I huffed and I puffed as Ralph handed me over to
Alec; and just like the cock-sucking, he was far more gentle and
considerate.

The journey back to school was a nightmare. I bounced around in the back of
the van and cried all the way.

* * *

I was up before the Housemaster the following morning. My late return had
obviously been noted.

'Why were you late, Bryce?' he asked.

'I lost track of the time, sir. I'm really sorry.'

'That is no excuse!' he snapped. 'Lower your trousers and underpants, and
bend over that chair.'

I received six cane-strokes on my bare bum. But now that I was a real
Tartan Tart, I didn't care.

* * *

The next 'Leave Sunday' came round far too slowly for my liking. Alec and
Ralph were now my pimps, and the van was now the official pimp-mobile.

A mattress now covered the van's metal floor, so now I could suck off a
stranger's cock in comfort.

'Okay, bitch,' said Ralph. 'Up on your hands and knees, doggy fashion.'

'Mr. Smith wants to cane your bare arse,' said Alec. 'Just like your
Housemaster did, when you got back late.'

I knew right there and then I should have kept my big mouth shut.

'Just keep calling him 'sir',' said Ralph.

Mr. Smith joined me in the van some five minutes later. He looked and
dressed like a real teacher, and he arrived with his own cane, and his own
paddle, and his own slipper. Clearly, he was going to be an A1 slapper.

'You look tip-top, boy,' he said. 'Nice and naked; nice and small; and nice
and naughty.'

'Thank you, sir,' I said, as I heard the cane swish through the air behind
me.

'Now, what is the capital city of Australia, boy?' he asked.

'Sydney, sir.'

'Wrong!'

The cane hit my arse-cheeks square on, and thankfully it was just the one
stroke; until...

'What is the capital city of Australia, boy?' he asked.

'Perth, sir.'

'Wrong!'

Unfortunately, this wrong answer was rewarded with two strokes of the cane.

'Now let's give you a moment to think of the correct answer, boy,' he said,
which was just an excuse for him to caress my cock and ball-sac, and then
to rim and finger my areshole. 'The answer is got to be in here somewhere.'

I received six strokes of the cane, four paddle whacks, and five slipper
slaps. Plus, I shot my load twice. The man certainly knew how to mix pain
with pleasure. And still I didn't get to suck his cock.

With Mr. Smith gone, Ralph drove the van out of town. I bumped up and down
in the back as we left the main roads behind.

Suddenly, the van stopped outside an old farmhouse.

'Get out, bitch,' ordered Ralph, 'and walk to the front door. Remember, you
please everyone inside. Alec and I will be back in three hours, so you
won't be late getting back to school.'

I walked towards the door as the van drove away. I was so conscious of my
nudity, but still so-o-o excited. Who was behind that door, and what were
they planning to do to me?

The solid wooden door was ajar, so I opened it and went in. Inside, the
hall was dark and unwelcoming. A short, tubby man stood directly in front
of me, fully dressed.

'Come, boy,' he said. 'I want you to meet my friends. We are all masters,
so you will refer to us accordingly. And if you fail to do so, there will
be a forfeit to pay.'

'Yes, master,' I said, submissively. 'I am here for your pleasure.'

'Good boy. Now follow me.'

We went into what must have been the sitting room. Three more men were
sitting in the room, and they all stood up as I entered.

'Good afternoon, masters,' I said, and did a sort of nod and bow.

'Welcome, boy,' said Master Two.

'He looks quite promising,' said Master Three. 'Come to me, boy.'

I did as I was told. He fondled my cock and ball-sac, and then put his
hands on my arse-cheeks.

'Mmmm. Small, plump and firm,' said Master Three. 'Promising indeed!'

'Who is going to be first?' asked Master Four

'Let him decide!' replied Master One.

'Okay, tart,' said Master Four. 'Which of us will be your first
instructor?'

I pointed to the man standing on my left, Master Two. I liked the look of
his face.

'Good, good,' said Master Four. 'Always leave the best to last.'

I followed Master Two out of the sitting room and into the next room; it
was empty of furniture, but there were lots of other things lying around,
and there was a large mattress on the floor.

'Stay there, boy,' he said. 'I'm off to get undressed.'

I looked around, and apart from the mattress, there was a chain attached to
the wall, whips of various kinds, and a lot of metal and rubber probes.

Master Two looked good naked. He was quite slim, with no hair round his
genitals. His cock was semi-erect, and his ball-sac was taut, as if it
needed emptying. As instructed, I knelt, doggy fashion, on the mattress and
licked my lips. He walked over to me, knelt on the mattress as well, and
gently but firmly took my ears and pulled my head down to his now rigid
cock.

As I sucked, I felt his hands caressing my body. They roamed down my back,
over my arse-cheeks, and along my thighs. He moistened a finger and thrust
it into my arsehole. Although I was waiting for it, it still surprised me,
and I jerked involuntarily.

'Lie down, boy,' he ordered. 'On your back, with your legs wide apart.'

I complied immediately; and as I did so, he pushed a pillow under my lower
back, forcing my anus up. He lay between my legs, propping himself up on
his elbows, his face looking at mine. He started to kiss me, thrusting his
tongue between my parted lips. I could feel his knob at my hole, eager for
entry. I relaxed my sphincter, and he was in, riding me. He kept
eye-contact with me as he fucked me. His movements became faster, and I
knew he would climax soon, and then with a final spasm his spunk entered my
inner sanctum.

He lay beside me for a while, and then spoke.

'Thank you, boy,' he said, smiling. 'You must now go back to the sitting
room and pick another beau. They all like using bondage toys, so you're
gonna be fucked again, and again, and again. And if it isn't a real cock,
it'll be a metal or rubber one.'

'What's that thing up there?' I asked. 'Hanging from the ceiling.'

'That's a hoist, boy. Those leather cuffs go round your wrists. The master
presses a button, and that wire hauls you into the air, until your toes are
just dangling above the floor. Then, depending on the master in charge,
your genitals and buttocks will be bitten and mauled; or your tummy will be
punched; or a cord, tied around your cock, will be used to swing you back
and forth through the air; or your back and buttocks will be thrashed
soundly with a whip. It's all good, clean fun; and that camera will capture
every minute of it.

I gulped, and then asked the man for more cock twitching details.

- - - - -

Comments to: andymann303@outlook.com

Other stories on Nifty by Andy Mann 303:

Andy's Adventures

Colin's Adventures

Trevor's Adventures