Date: Thu, 18 Mar 2021 10:15:37 +0000
From: Joel Stronach <joelstronach@protonmail.com>
Subject: Schoolboy Adventures

SCHOOLBOY ADVENTURES by Joel Stronach (joelstronach@protonmail.com)

It may seem strange to you, but when the doctor told me that I had a
verruca on my right foot, I was overjoyed.  Overjoyed because this meant I
couldn't take part in gym lessons because school rules dictated that we do
P.E. in bare feet.

I hated all sports with a passion, not because I wasn't reasonably fit.  As
a teenager, I was average height and average weight.  Mother Nature had
blessed me with a complete absence of acne and, though I say so myself, I
was fairly good-looking.

I made sure that the doctor gave me an exemption note together with a
prescription for some horrible brown cream that I had to use on the verruca
daily.  When I asked him how long it would take for the verruca to
disappear, his reply was, "How long is a piece of string?".

The school gym was a concrete box on two levels that had been built in the
late 1950s (what I am writing about took place in the mid-1960s).  On the
ground floor (that would be the first floor to my US friends) were the
changing rooms, or rather one large L-shaped changing room with the showers
off to one side and the Gym Master's office and toilet on the other.  There
was only one toilet as it was an all-boys' school.  There was a trough
which would accommodate four or five boys peeing and a single cubicle.
Upstairs was the actual gym space, which was quite large and fairly
well-equipped.  The staircase was open wooden steps with metal supports and
when there were thirty or forty barefoot boys coming down it sounded like a
herd of elephants approaching.  The gym was separate from the rest of the
school, which was a red-brick Victorian edifice which opened in the 1880s,
although the school had existed for much longer.

Even though I wasn't allowed to participate in the lesson I still had to go
to the gym and sit in the changing room.  For the first couple of weeks I
put the time to good use and did as much homework as I could.  I sat in the
place where I usually got changed which was exactly between the entrance to
the toilet and the entrance to the showers.  On the third week, however, I
wasn't alone in the changing room.  A boy named Dennis (Den) Frickey joined
me.  Den was a sporty type, captain of the school cricket team during the
summer and played rugby during the winter.  We weren't particularly
friendly; we just didn't seem to move in the same circles.

"Wilde isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, Bob Wilde." I answered

"So what's up with you, Bob, to exempt you from gym lessons?"

"I've managed to get a verruca."  I said.

"You too, eh?"  he murmured, "it's a bugger isn't it?"

"I depends on your point of view," I said.  "For you it would be a bugger,
for me it would be a godsend.  After all, I'm not exactly a sporty type."

"Well, you should be."  Den said, eyeing me from head to toe.  "You're
pretty fit, it wouldn't take much to whip you into shape."

"Sorry, Den, but I have absolutely no coordination whatsoever."

"Pity, we could do with some fresh blood on the sports field."

The conversation seemed to stop there, so I got out my maths homework and
started on it, aware that Den was still looking at me out of the corner of
his eye.  He sat on the bench opposite me and took out his own homework.
After about ten minutes he got up and went into the toilet.  There was no
door to the toilet; I suppose they didn't think it necessary.  He unzipped
and was peeing when he looked towards me.  I thought at first that he
hadn't seen me looking at him, but what happened after another minute
proved me wrong.  When he stopped peeing, he made no effort to zip himself
up again; in fact he started to massage himself.  Out of the corner of my
eye I could see that he was getting hard.  Then he let his trousers fall a
little further so that it was obvious what he was doing and at the same
time exposing his arse.

Let me tell you a little more about Den Frickey, he was the same age as me,
but was short for his age, probably about three inches shorter than me.  He
was solidly built, but by no means fat.  His hair was almost black and his
skin tone was as though he had a slight suntan.  All in all he was a very
desirable boy, and while he was slowly masturbating himself, I was slowly
getting harder and harder myself.

"So what do you think Bob?" he asked, facing towards me, making sure that I
got a good view of his average sized (and very hard) cock and his fairly
low-hanging balls.  I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't wearing any
underpants, and unlike some of the sporty gang, he'd left his pubic bush au
naturel and hadn't shaved or trimmed it, and that was just how I liked it.
Colour-wise, it was an exact match for the hair on his head.  I didn't
answer his question so he decided to come out of the toilet and stand
directly in front of me, still masturbating slowly.  Truth to tell, I was
frightened to speak as I feared my voice would come out in a squeak.

"Come on, Bob, I've heard you're not usually bashful."  He took a pace
closer to me so that his cock was only inches from my face, then he put his
hands on the wall above my head, leaning forward slightly so that his cock
rested against my lips.  `well,' I thought to myself, `I'm damned if I do
and I'm damned if I don't.' so I opened my lips and took the head of his
cock into my mouth, licking and sucking gently.  Den shuddered slightly and
moaned softly.  I had obviously made the right decision.  I had feared that
he would pull out immediately and publicly denounce me for the homo that I
was.  I began to really enjoy myself, so I put my hands on his arse and
pulled him towards me, running a couple of my fingers up and down his
crack, where a small amount of hair had started to grow, then I gently
massaged his ring.  His moans became more intense and I decided to go all
out and took the head of his cock into my throat.  I'd had a little
practice at this with an older boy in the school a few months before.  His
name was Russell and he'd had a huge cock and he taught me how to `deep
throat' to give him maximum pleasure.

Den started gently fucking my face and making soft animal noises, and so I
knew that it wouldn't be long before he shot his load.  I slipped the tip
of one of my fingers into his ring, then up to the knuckle, then the full
finger.  By this time Den was thrashing like mad and then suddenly he tried
to pull out of my mouth but, of course, I wouldn't let him.

"I'm gonna cum."  He managed to croak between his grunts.  I just ignored
him and pulled him even further towards me.  "Oh fuck." He almost screamed
and I could feel the first couple of shots hit the back of my throat.  I
eased off slightly so I would be able to taste the rest of his cum, and it
tasted a little sweeter than mine, and a lot sweeter than Russell's.
"Fucking hell Bob, where did you learn to do that?  He asked.

"Oh," I said, smiling, "I'm not totally green when it comes to oral."

"Your reputation goes before you."  He said, "but I wasn't told that you
could deep throat."

"I don't do it for everyone," I replied, "But I was happy to do it for
you."

"I've never had a finger or anything else up my arse before."  Den said,
"and before we do anything else, I don't take it up the arse, I'm a giver,
not a receiver; but when you pushed your finger inside it was like lighting
a firework, there was no going back."

Den and I spent several weekends together after that, but that's another
story.

My next encounter was with John Burton (Don't get confused here because
there is another John, John Lazenby, who appears later in the story). This
took place not in the gym but in the old Victorian school building in the
Lecture Theatre.  Like most old lecture halls, there weren't individual
desks. But huge long tables and benches going upwards in tiers with steps
both sides.  This was a Physics lesson, and I hated anything to do with
science so I was sitting towards the back (I wasn't a brilliant student at
any subject, but I definitely preferred arts to sciences).  John B came and
sat next to me, which I thought was strange as we weren't particularly
friendly.  Most boys either sat alone or with a good friend and there was
plenty of room for John to sit alone if he so chose.  John made a show of
looking through his briefcase when the master, Mr McGregor, came into the
room.  John put his case next to him and raised his hand to attract Mr
McGregor's attention to say that he had left is textbook at home and asked
for a spare one.  "I don't have any spares here, Burton, just share with
Wilde for today."  John shuffled closer to me; so close, in fact, that we
were touching from shoulder downwards.  Mr Mc Gregor started the lesson,
which was a cue for me to tune out.  After a few minutes I became aware
that John's left arm (the one closest to me) was moving.  I thought at
first that he had an itch and was scratching it until he sat back and
unclipped his waistband, pulled down his zip and pushed his trousers down
to his knees, which the bench and table in front hid from view.

I had seen John many times in the showers after sports and knew that he was
well-endowed, in fact he had the largest cock in our year and great
low-hanging balls, but I had only seen him soft.  He was also one of the
first to grow pubic hair, which was blond to match his head hair
(personally I preferred boys with dark hair, but beggars can't be
choosers).  He took his cock in his hand and began masturbating.  I looked
around quickly, but there was no way that anybody could see what was going
on.

Of course, as soon as this happened, I got really hard and had to adjust
myself to get more comfortable.  John turned to me and smiled, took my
right hand and placed it on his cock while feeling my hard member in my
trousers.  John wasn't left-handed, but proved to be quite dextrous and
within seconds had unsnapped my waistband, but he had some trouble pulling
down my zip.  I hesitated for a moment, but the urge to free my cock was
overwhelming so I took my hand from his cock and unzipped myself and pulled
my own trousers and underpants down to my knees revealing to John my
rock-hard cock.  John's eyes got really large and grabbed it with his left
hand as I took him in hand again.

John's cock didn't get really hard like mine when erect, but it had
obviously grown considerably.  We struggled a bit trying to make sure that
to all appearances above the desk there was little or no movement and I
thought we must have succeeded as nobody was looking at us.  After a while
I tried to take John's hand off my cock as I was getting really close to
cumming.  "It's OK," John whispered, "Just bite your tongue so you don't
make any noise when you cum."  It was only a few seconds later that I took
his advice and shot one of my best ever loads under the table.  John was
obviously getting close as he was humming very softly.  I could actually
feel his sperm as it filled the urethra.  A little of his sperm remained on
my hand afterwards and I was about to flick it off when I notice that more
than a little of my own sperm had ended up on his hand and he raised it
surreptitiously to his mouth and licked it off.  Unlike Den's, John's was
slightly bitter and had a slight smell like chlorine, which reminded me of
the swimming baths.

I started to get myself presentable when John stopped me.  "We'll be ready
to go again in a minute." He said, and we were!!

To find the other John, John Lazenby, we have to travel to the sports
field, which was about eight or nine miles for the location of the school.
Students had to get to the field by public transport, the easiest and most
frequent of which was the bus; not just an ordinary bus, but an
electric-powered Trolleybus.  Current was picked up from overhead wires and
used to drive the buses, which were so silent that they earned the nickname
`Whispering Death' because people were frequently run over because they
couldn't hear them approaching.

At the field, as well as three `Cabin Classrooms' there was the pavilion,
split into three changing rooms and a fourth room containing a row of
showers.  The toilet was in a separate very small building adjacent to the
pavilion, but you had to go out of the pavilion and walk along to it.

The certificate that exempted me from gym also worked for sports at the
field and the same rule applied, that I had to attend the field whether
taking part or not.

Guys did different sports at the field, one of which was cross-country
running and, as long as people ran the whole course and then did a lap of
the field on their return, they were usually the first ones to finish and
then get showered.  On this particular day there were only four runners and
I watched as they stripped off and went into the showers.  They seemed to
be in there for quite a while and my curiosity got the better of me so I
decided to investigate.  As I approached the doorway into the showers, I
could see three of them under the same showerhead standing in a triangle.
I walked as close as I could without getting wet and could see that Ian
Alexander and Joe Peters were watching John masturbating.  Anton Byron was
showering nearby, but seemed to be disassociating himself from what was
happening with the trio, but all the same he glanced over to watch them now
and then.  I had often thought that, in terms of endowment Anton and I were
pretty evenly matched, but now I looked closely Anton's cock was a bit
thicker than mine.  If I had to choose a word to describe it, I'd have to
say, `pendulous'.  I had often wondered whether Anton would be up for a bit
of fun; in fact, I could get seriously involved with him.  The reason I
didn't was because he always seemed to have a girl in close attendance, and
the rumours were that he was shagging them stupid.

Joe's cock was soft, but Ian had a hard-on and was occasionally touching
himself.  As John was masturbating, he was gradually getting faster and
faster, but seemed to be frustrated that he wasn't getting anywhere.  After
another couple of minutes he stopped, looked at the other two and said,
"Can someone else take over?  I don't seem to be getting there."

Ian and Joe looked at one another.  OK, I'll give it a go."  Joe said.  I
noticed then that, unlike most of us Brits, Joe and Ian were circumcised,
and then I realised that they were both Jewish.  I only knew this because
the school had a Christian assembly in the school hall every morning, but
Jewish boys had their own separate assembly in the lecture theatre, and I
realised that I never saw Ian or Joe in my assembly.

Joe's ministrations seemed to be doing the trick as John was spasming from
time to time and within seconds he shot his load on to the shower floor.
To me this was so erotic that I almost came in my underpants.  I knew I had
to do something about it so I walked very slowly and carefully through the
changing room, through the outside door and down the steps.  I nearly came
again on the steps as the friction from my clothes on my dick was almost as
much as I could stand.

As I turned towards the toilets, I saw that Anton was now in the changing
room and, I assumed, getting dressed.  I made it to the toilet and
fortunately there was nobody else in there.  I unzipped my trousers and
carefully took out my rock-hard cock.  I was handling it very gently,
trying to prolong the exquisite feeling I was experiencing.  Although I was
totally absorbed in what I was doing, I soon became aware that I wasn't
alone in the toilet.  I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw that
Anton had not been getting dressed as all he wore was a pair of flip flops
(the leather sort) and a pair of shorts.  The shorts were doing nothing to
hide his erection.  I started to try and put my dick away without causing
too much friction, but Anton said, "Don't stop, Bob" as he pulled his
shorts down revealing his own expanding cock, which he immediately started
tugging on.  This sent me over the edge very quickly and before I knew it,
I was shooting me seed all over the urinal wall, which was painted black so
the white cum showed up clearly on it.  Only half a minute later Anton
shuffled over next to me and shot his own load to mingle with mine on the
urinal wall.

After a few seconds Anton made a grab for the disabled rails to support
himself. "Fuck, that was intense", he said.  I had to grin because I'd
never heard Anton swear before.  "Don't get the wrong idea," He said, "I'm
not really gay, except ... ... ... it's difficult to explain, but we'd
better get out of here before we're found out."

As we left the toilets several of the top jocks were heading in.  "Oh yes,
been jacking off together have we?"  One of them said.  I tried to ignore
him, but Anton blushed deep red.  "My God, you have haven't you."  He said
and dashed into the toilet.  He rushed out again and said, "Look in here
guys, they've left their jizz all over the wall."  The same boy then walked
over close to us and said, "Fair play to you, lads, I'll make sure this is
not spread around."

"Thanks Noble," I said, remembering his name at the last minute.  Anton
just nodded his thanks.  We went into the pavilion and into the changing
room.

"We need to talk."  Anton said, "do you have to hurry home after sports or
can you come to my house for an hour.  Don't worry about getting home
afterwards, we can arrange a car."  Wherever Anton went his parents
insisted that he go by car which was always supplied by a superior
chauffeur-driven car hire service.

"Yes, I'm sure that will be OK."  I said, "As long as I can phone my mum to
let her know I'll be late" (there were only land lines in those days).

"You can phone from the house when we get there."  Anton said.  "Don't talk
about this in the car.  Drivers have flapping ears and wagging tongues," he
said.

After he was dressed, we walked down the drive that connected the field to
the road and a dark blue Mercedes was parked at the end of the drive with
the engine running.  We got in the back and the driver turned to Anton and
smiled.  "Home?"  he asked.

"Yes please, Paul."  Anton replied.  "By the way, this is my friend Bob,
you'll probably be seeing more of him in the future."

"Hello, Bob."  Paul said, putting the automatic gear shift into `drive'.
The Mercedes slipped away smoothly and silently.  Not like my parents' old
Honda.

Anton lived roughly half-way between the school and the field and Paul got
us there in no time.  I was amazed at the size of the house.  The whole
road was lined with luxury homes, but it looked as though Anton lived in
the biggest and most imposing house in the street.  We drove into the small
semi-circular drive and after we got out of the car it drove straight off.
"It must cost your family a fortune to use these cars all the time," I said
as Anton pulled his keys from his pocket and opened the front door.

"Not really," Anton replied, "My dad owns the Company!"

Anton called out as we went in, "Hi everyone, I'm home and I have a friend
with me."  The response to this was silence.  "As I thought," Anton said,
"Nobody's home."

"Maybe they just haven't answered."  I said.

"Oh, they would have answered, I've never brought anyone home before."  He
said.  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a very private person.  I don't
have any real friends, Bob."  He said.

"Well, you have now."  I replied pointing to myself.  This made Anton
Smile, something that didn't happen very often.

"Come on into the kitchen.  While I get us drinks you can phone home."  He
said.

I dialled my home number and at first, I thought nobody was home, but my
mum eventually answered, sounding breathless.  She explained that she had
been in the garden weeding.

When I told her that I would be at Anton's house for an hour or two she
asked who Anton was as, she said, I had never mentioned him before.  When I
said that it was Anton Byron she thought for a moment and said, "Is that
the boy who played the `cello so beautifully in last month's concert?"  I
told her that it was and she was very happy that I was spending time with
him.  Little did she know ... ... ...

"OK, why don't we take the drinks along to my room?"  Anton said.  He led
me to along the corridor to a huge bedroom with everything a boy could wish
for including a king-size bed.  "I'm just going to get out of my school
uniform."  He said as he disappeared into a side room.  I wandered around
his bedroom looking at all the electronic equipment he had, and there were
three `cellos on stands in one corner.  I had just got close to the door
where Anton had disappeared when he came out again -- NAKED!!

Not only was Anton naked, but he was almost fully erect.  I couldn't take
my eyes off him.  "You said earlier that you're not really gay.  How can
you say that when you're standing there naked and horny with another boy?"
I asked him.

"Because I don't fancy any other boy, only you."  He replied, "Besides,
these labels like `gay' and `straight' are very flexible and, in a way,
unnecessary."  He walked towards me and slid my jacket off my shoulders and
put it on the back of a chair.  Then he began unbuttoning my shirt, which
he put on top of my jacket.  By this time we were both very erect and my
cock was straining against my zip.  Anton grasped my cock through my
trousers, then undid the waist button and lowered the zip.  Every different
sensation against my cock was getting me closer and closer to orgasm.  I
stepped out of my trousers and took my socks off, just leaving my
underpants.  "What happens if one of your parents comes home?"  I asked.

"Dad's in Germany with his orchestra and mum won't be home until late
tonight.  Besides, mum known the score with my sex life."

A damp spot was growing on my underpants as I asked, "You've told your Mum
about me?"  I asked.  Anton nodded as he pulled my pants away from my body,
finally allowing my cock freedom from its confines as a fresh globule of
precum escaped, which Anton rubbed all over my glans.  At that point I
couldn't have cared whether anybody walked in on us.

Anton then took my cock in his hand and led me to his bed.  He pushed me
down and lay next to me, his hand still wrapped around me.

That couple of hours, my first spent on Anton's bed, didn't include any sex
as such.  Certainly not any anal and not really any oral but we certainly
got to know one another's bodies very well.  We explored every inch of one
another using fingers, lips, tongues, and even noses, sometimes our hugs we
so tight it was as though we were trying to become one person; other times
a gentle hug and gentle frottage led to the most powerful orgasms for both
of us.  We produced enough jizz between us to sink a battleship; well,
certainly enough for us to stick together and to warrant a change of bed
sheet and duvet cover.

Proper oral and anal sex would have to wait a couple of weeks, when Anton's
mother would be away for a long weekend visiting his father in mainland
Europe and I was `officially' invited to keep Anton company for that
period.  But that's another story for another time ... ... ...

I hope you enjoyed the story.  It is partly autobiographical and partly
wishful thinking.  Please let me have your feedback (good or bad) at
joelstronach@protonmail.com