Date: Tue, 31 Oct 2017 07:22:44 +0300 From: Ivan Ivanocich Subject: What a Knob 3 What a Knob! -- pt 3 Fucking Spunkers! "Wow! What a great room!" The other English boys said, jumping onto the bed of their choice. "Just like our dormitories in Moscow, but even a little more comfortable," Gleb replied. "It just looks like Garry Potter,"Oleg added: "Look at the old architecture and windows." "Shall we tell them?" Jonathan said to Peter?" "You mean about the secret room? Yes, I think we should, but we must be careful about the other boys who were not here in those days. Let's wait a little." Turning to Artem and Gleb, Peter said that they would have to go down to their rooms to collect their clothes and things and bring them up to the dormitory. "Come on guys, we will help you," Gleb said. "Let's just take off our coats and visit the toilet. "Oh yes," Peter, replied. "I had forgotten about the old showers. Do you remember how all the guys used to shower together. No curtains or cubicles!" "You should see our showers and toilets," Gleb explained. There are even no doors, so it is all very communal!" The English boys couldn't believe it, but Peter and Jonathan led the boys down the corridor to the wash rooms. "What's wrong with them? They look okay," Artem said, observing the room for the showers which were in a line along the wall. "Well, it looks as if we are to use them because there is soap and towels ready," Dan said, amused that our Russian friends had taken the opportunity to piss in the latrine, unfastening their belts and opening the trousers. Usually the English boys would shut themselves in the cubicle even to piss. Peter had also taken the opportunity, standing next to Gleb. Rather interested in the bulge in Gleb's trousers, Peter took a quick sideways glance. "Fucking puberty!" he thought, as he caught a sight of the impressive penis and huge knob, which had just come into view, the skin drawn back to piss and pulled back to expose the fat knob which was emitting the stream of urine. He also caught sight of the pubic area around the penis. There was a thick ring of skin where the penis adjoined the body and it was around here that a small tuft of pubic hair was now growing and curling, with tiny hairs spreading across the entire pubic area. Peter's head was spinning from the sight, of the pubes and the sheer size of the knob, which was fatter than the penis which in itself was long and of very ample girth; but he soon recovered himself. "So, guys; let's go down to bring up our stuff," he suggested, watching Oleg and Gena fasten their belts. Just at that moment, the boys noticed that the boarding master was standing behind them. "What are you doing here, boys? You know these rooms are forbidden to you?" "The matron sent us here as we are sleeping here with our friends, Sir," Peter replied. "It has been agreed by the headmaster." With that, the boys left the room. "Another cunt!" Jonathan added as they were descending the stairs. "That's another reason why we want to be out of the choir as soon as possible. He and the choirmaster," Jonathan added. "Wow, you must tell us all!" Artem replied. "Yes, we are very discreet," Gleb added. "We can tell you about our school too, but we love it and our director and teachers!" Gleb, Oleg, Gena and Artem had taken off their jackets. There were now in the new part of the school, which housed the boys' bedrooms. "There are our normal rooms: just like being at home," Dan said, showing first his own, which he shared with Roger and Jonnie, and then Peter and Alex's room. They were comfortable, with three beds, tables and chairs and a wash basin. The Matron appeared. She was a woman of about 50, quite short. "You may use the washing facilities here or up in the dormitory, she instructed to the Russian boys. "All will be well upstairs, thank you Madam," Artem replied. They are quite sufficient and comfortable and we do not wish to make you extra work. "Officially, you are too old to sleep with the boys," she replied to Artem, "But there is a small room near the dormitory which used to be the prefects' room. I have made a bed there for you. Mr. Preston will help you and be in overall charge. Our housemaster has too much work to supervise the dormitory, or so he says," she continued in dark tones, leaving the room. "Wow, that mean we are out of that gay bastard's control for a few days," Jonathan exclaimed. "Come on, let's get back. You are in charge, Artem, with Mr. Preston!" "You had better do as I say, or I will beat you," Artem replied, softly slapping Peter's pubescent bottom. At the age of 13, Peter had not progressed into advanced puberty, although here were signs in his face and general development of the change. He was a sportsman and played rugby like the other boys. "Do you like Rugby?" he asked Oleg, who he thought would make a fine, strong, player. Oleg explained in Russian that he knew the game and wanted to try it but it was not popular in Russia. "Come on. Let's go upstairs and we'll show you guys some moves. The boys returned to the dormitory. The matron had left some school clothes for the boys. This was the sort of uniform worn in the school when not wearing official uniform. "Are the younger boys sleeping with us," Oleg asked; thinking, if so, they would spoil the fun. "No just the over 11's, Peter explained. That's Dan, Jonnnie, Roger, Alex and me. My brother, who was here eight years ago before me, says they used to call it the `Wankers Dorm'. Of course, we don't know about wanking, do we guys!" he said, turning to the others. Dan and Roger coloured a little, but Alex who shared usually with Peter laughed. "Sounds like our dormitory, guys," Gleb added. "Yes, doesn't take much to get Gena started, does it?" he asked his friend. "Of course, I do not masturbate!" he added in half seriousness. Just at that moment, the door opened and who should enter but their old headmaster Mr. Preston. "Gosh, Mr Preston, are you our headmaster again," Peter asked, maybe in some joke, but a little embarrassed in case he had heard the last conversation. He remembered with pleasure that when he first came to the school, aged eight, that the Reverend gentleman had still taught in the school. "Good evening, boys," he announced with a glint in his eye. No, Barton and Jamison (he referred to the old tradition of calling boys by their family names -- this tradition had been banned by the new headmaster -- `The Cunt'); "But your boarding master does not want to be responsible for this dormitory, so Matron has asked me. Mr. Rodgers will visit from time to time. Do you object?" "Of course not," the boys replied. "I well remember your fathers," Mr Preston continued; "And your grandfather, Jamison" -- referring to Peter. "He was the finest boy soprano we ever had." And then, speaking in good Russian, he turned to Gleb: "My boy, will you teach our boys the old traditions!" It is very important that they do not die." The boys understood the situation, even Gena, who is usually not serious. "Of course, Father. We shall try," they all replied. "What did he say?" Dan asked. And Artem replied that he would explain later. "I really came to tell you that you have a meeting with your choirmaster in fifteen minutes. "He wishes to meet our new friends." And turning to Artem he added in Russian: "Don't let him dominate you. He is a dangerous person." "Understood!" Artem replied in the hearing of all, but the understanding of just our friends. "What clothes did you bring to wear in the school?" Dan asked. "We have to wear our normal school clothes. Some years ago the uniform was changed to long trousers and shirts, but we still wear the old uniform in the Cathedral. "We have our school clothes," Gleb replied. Let's unpack all and change. You can help us, if you like." And with that, the boys opened their baggage and started to put things into the provided spaces. "Wow, is that your concert uniform, or your school uniform?" Peter asked, as he helped Gena. Gena understood the word `concert' and managed to answer: "It for concert: this for school," he said in deep tones taking out his school clothes. "Guys, take off your suits and put them away and put on your school clothes," Artem ordered. The English boys were shocked at how obedient they were to a mere boy of 18 and also at how they all stripped off to their underpants. "Fucking puberty!" Peter thought as he saw Gena in all his glory save for the tight pants he was wearing. He felt a strong erection rising as he observed the puffy nipples and hair growing in his armpits. But the other boys couldn't take their eyes off Gleb and Oleg, standing, as they were in their underpants. "Fucking Wanker," thought Jonathan as he stood next to Oleg as he took off his trousers. "The boy must have balls like a bull!" It's true: Oleg's equipment was released from his trousers and was free to expand in his pants and completely filled out the provided pouch. Since the summer, his balls had grown enormously and the knob of the penis thickened. "The boy must have a fucking bush to be sure," Jonnie thought. He and Peter and Alex had put off their usual masturbation session after the Cathedral Service because they had had to prepare for our boys' arrival. Usually they had half an hour to themselves in their rooms to relax at that time. Unfortunately, their internet access was severely limited and many sites blocked, so a lot left to imagination. "Guys, get dressed!" Artem commanded. "We have a meeting with the English choirmaster." Soon the boys had put on their school uniform of black trousers with belt and soloist's buckle, white shirts, black shoes. Our English friends were quite impressed and admitted their new friends looked very smart. As we know, Gleb is a tall, slim boy with long slender legs and a rounded bottom. The length of his penis and the size of his knob has for the past year been a problem. He had recently taken to wearing trunk-like underpants which allowed his penis and balls to rest more comfortably against his right thigh, the outline of his balls and knob noticeable as he walked. Oleg had also tried this but it felt uncomfortable and squashed his balls, so everything was held in front causing a terrific bulge. The size of their equipment bothered neither boy. "Show it proudly, boys!" Artem joked as Oleg fastened his zipper. The English boys were already in their school clothes so there was no need to change. "Hey, guys, I almost forgot," Alex, the most adolescent of the English boys asked. "Do you have notebooks with Internet". "Of course, we all have it on our telephones; we were given UK simcards," Gleb replied. "Artem also has a notebook with a modem." "Fucking hell; you mean you can see porn and stuff?" Alex replied. "Keep it secret, or they will take it. Wow, can't wait to see it." By this time, they had arrived at the music room in the school, so they changed the subject. "Wow, how is it you can sing like that?" Peter asked, as they were making their way back after the meeting. "You certainly put the bastard in his place!" Alex said to Artem. It was true. The choirmaster, Dr. Andrews, was a young man who refused to accept he was a failure at his job. He had taken over the choir from Dr. Buckson, who had held the post for nearly 50 years and had commanded huge respect from the boys and the entire community. He had had no trouble keeping the traditions of the Cathedral because the politically-correct dared not have acted during his tenure. So, Dr. Andrew's had taken over a difficult position, but instead of learning skills in dealing with boys and young people, he chose to concentrate on his solo playing career, and his concerts attracted huge audiences. It was he who, in league with the cathedral clergy, wanted to close the choir and engage paid singers. When Mr Preston managed to persuade the governors of the school to invite the Russian boys, he had been opposed, but when he saw it as a fact, he pretended to be all in favour, hoping to ridicule the boys and their singing and further fuel the argument to close the choir. One of the main problems with the boys is that he could not control their behaviour and so he engaged singing teachers to teach them individually. However, when the boys entered the room they were unusually silent in his presence. "I don't want any stupid behaviour today boys," he announced as they entered. The younger boys were not present, so just our friends were gathered -- six `senior'boys (if 11 years can be considered senior) and our own boys. "Stay with us, please Artem," Peter whispered. Artem had thought it would be polite to leave them alone with Dr. Andrew's. "Good evening, Dr. Andrews," Artem said very politely, having the effect of putting the man off his course of action. He then formally introduced them. "Would you prefer me to leave you? My only thought is that two of our boys don't understand English, and I may be of some assistance." "No, no, do stay," he replied, feeling unusually rather nervous in their presence. He shook hands with Gleb, Oleg and Gena, who returned his stare very effectively in Russian way! He then started on some rubbish about the cathedral being very fine and the choir very old and how lucky the Russians were to be able to learn from the superior musicality. Artem translated this but left out the last part which made Gleb almost choke trying not to laugh. He knew that Oleg especially would have taken it in bad part. "Perhaps you would like us to sing for our friends," Peter suggested. This also threw the man off his course as his boys never, ever volunteered to sing. "We would be very honoured if you would sing for us," Gleb added. "What will it be?" It was decided that the anthem from that evening's service should be sung. It had soprano solo in it but invariably it was taken by all of the boys. "May I try the solo, Sir," Alex said, much to the shock of everyone. Dr. Andrew's struck the piano and was astonished when the boys began with such vigour. When it came to the solo, it was almost more astonishing in that Alex sang it rather well. In many ways this annoyed the choirmaster. It was true that he singing was rather raw and harsh, but strong. "Why such a sudden improvement in singing?" he asked, sarcastically. "What about you boys? Would you like to try," he said, almost throwing the partitions at them and hoping this would show up the incompetence of our Russian boys. "Would you like me to sing, Dr Andrew's?" Artem asked. I don't sing anymore but I still have an alto range." The master agreed and said he would sing the bass part The anthem was a good one of more traditional nature; one of the very few left from the repertory of Dr.Buckson. Of course, our boys had never seen it, but is was typically correct Victorian harmony and only tricky for inexperienced singers. The solo had a beautifully high tessitura and was obviously written for boys taught in the old traditions of `voice from the head'. "Gleb is our main soloist, Sir," Artem added; "Would you permit his taking the solo." Dr Andrews started to play and almost stopped in shock when the voices of our three boy sopranos, and Artem as alto began the piece. Such was the sweetness and warmth of the performance. Such emotion and vibrato, such deep breathing; and when Gelb took the solo, even the English boys were moved by his performace at sight. "Dr. Andrew's at first tried to play in modern style, without rubato or emotion, but Gleb withheld him and forced the style. As he finished the passage and the others joined -- including our English friends, the sound of the missing tenor part was to be heard in the distance with beautiful sweet tones. Without stopping singing, the boys turned to see the Reverend Preston enter the room, walk up to Artem and look over his partition for security. Dr. Andrew's couldn't help but carry on, and it seemed as if the others caught the style and started singing with more emotion. As the last bars faded, there was complete silence, broken only when Mr Preston apologised for coming in. "That will be all for now boys; you may go." The choirmaster commanded. "I must go now, boys," Mr Preston said in Russian. "I will see you later. I only came to tell you that you may rest in your dormitory for an hour before supper." "I did not know you spoke Russian!" Andrew's said, annoyed that he had not been able to understand. In fact he felt completely manipulated by the situation. "Oh you don't know everything about me!" Mr. Preston replied, and with that last word, he turned and left the room. "What a cool man," Artem said to his English friends. It was at this point that Peter said: "Wow, how is it you can sing like that? And you certainly put the bastard in his place!" "You can sing that too, if you try! - Come on, I thought you wanted to see some porno!" Artem replied. It was at this point that Peter and Jonathan let the others in on the knowledge of the secret room. Peter's brother had told him about it. The secret had been passed down by generation of boys, but when the old senior boys' dormitory had been closed, it had been impossible to access it. "I called my brother last night," Peter said, but he could not remember anything. But when he asked grandfather, he managed to get some information." The boys were now climbing the stairs to the old dormitory. "We have to look for some old wooded panel near the fireplace. It has some sort of spring." "Wow, it's just like Garry Potter," Oleg said as they arrived at the corridor. As we said, this part of the school is mediaeval and with high beams and thick walls. The boys rushed to the old fireplace, which was closed off and had a commode in front of it. It wasn't difficult to remove the facade to reveal the old fireplace. "Let me look," Peter commanded. "My brother said some sort of panel. It must be one that surrounds the fire. It can't be in the fireplace or it would burn." "Don't fucking crowd round!" Jonathan said to the 11-year-olds. Keep back!" Peter was trying to press the panels round the fire surround. "It's fucking useless," he said, resting. Oleg started to speak quickly in Russian. "He says, maybe not push but slide or twist," Gleb said, kneeling down and trying to massage the panels. Suddenly, one of the panels twisted slightly and there was a loud click. A few metres away, part of the panelled wall had swung open slightly. "Wow! FUCKING HELL!" all explained. "How long do we have, Artem asked?" "We have an hour before supper. The Matron we could have some rest to relax. I don't think anyone will come." The boys went over to examine the opened panel. It was hinged and swung like a door, but not fully -- just enough to allow access to some stone steps which went upwards. "Does it open from the inside?" Roger asked, looking at the back of the panel. "Yes, there is a lever: let's try it," Artem said, going inside and closing the panel. It clicked shut. A moment later, it clicked again and Artem appeared. "Guys, shine your telephones and let's go." It was very narrow in the opening but soon all were in and climbing the steep stairs. It had obviously not been used for years but there was some writings on the wall. After about 20 steps, they reached a door which opened inwards to reveal a room, quite small but airy and high. It had once been nice a cosy but now rather dusty. "Look there is a table and some chairs," Alex said, also seeing some candles." Over the years, it seems as if boys had made the room rather comfortable, bringing spare cushions and furniture. Artem has matches, so he lit three candles. "How long do we have? Forty minutes?" Alex asked. I'm bursting for a wank!" "Hey, guys," Artem replied. Before we let you wank with us, let's play a game." "You mean sex game?" Peter asked. "Fucking hell!" Artem explained the rules. Each team could make the others do what they wanted. "Be sensible, guys; nothing extreme!" Artem was to be referee. "So, Oleg: you start. Command one of the boys to do something." "Peter, take off Gena's trousers!" Oleg said in Russian. "Wow, fucking hell!" Peter said, approaching Gena, his hands shaking as he undid the boys belt, unfastened the trousers and lowered the zip. He could feel the warmth of the boys bulge as he did so. Gena assisted by sitting on the chair as the boy slid off his clothes. "This game is rater gay, but good fun!" Alex said, etting quite excited. "We are not blue, I mean, gay boys: it's just normal Russian fun: relax and enjoy it!" Artem replied. "Your turn, now," he continued, addressing our English friends. "Artem, feel Alex's arse and his balls through his trousers!" Peter said quickly. "With pleasure!" Artem replied. "I knew you would like this game!" and with that he went over to the adolescent boy and started stroking his rounded bottom and trying to find something to feel in his trousers. "You're not very big, are you," he teased. "Wait, is that a hard tool I fell?" "Fucking spunker!" Alex replied, his penis rising in Artem's grasp. It was now Oleg's turn. "Dan, take your hand and feel Gleb's big knob!" he said provocatively. "Must he? I am trying to be controlled," Gleb replied but without much conviction. Dan approached and applied his hand to the front of Gleb's trousers. "Wow: what a knob!" he exclaimed. "Are you spunking?" he asked. "Do you mean now or in general?" Gleb answered. "I mean in general: I can't even spunk yet." "It will come in time, my friend," Gleb continued, not answering the specific question. It was now the English boys turn. "Oleg, take off your pants and show us your balls," Jonnie said. "Bet you have a fucking bush!" Oleg obediently approached our English friends and very slowly lowered his pants! Fucking PUBERTY! What a surprise. What the boys saw will be revealed next time!